Split (1)

train · 353k rows

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[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	The big man in red plunged his hand like a blade between the fourth and fifth rib of the man under him. “Your buddies are all dead,” he rasped, his throat raw from berserker rage. “Tell me where my friends are and I’ll let you live.” His leather-clad fist tightened and the thug moaned. “Don’t tell and I’ll eat your heart in front of you before you can die.” He smiled, teeth white against the blood splashed against his face and beard. “And I’m hungry.” The thug babbled an answer and was dropped aside as the big man turned to go. He had almost reached the door when the thug gasped, “They’re just reindeer, man!” The big man in red turned slowly, menacingly, back to the thug. Then he smiled, so warmly that for a moment the thug lost all fear. But when he looked into the big man’s eyes, his heart fell as he saw his end.	Abe came to slowly. Already losing his edge - in the old days it would have taken a lot more than a steel-toed boot in the darkness to send him senseless. But that didn't explain the feeling in his chest. Rolling his eyes, he glanced down. Fuck. A knife. Buried in his chest, where his heart should be. Everyone knows Zemuul's heart is on his right-side, he thought, before reminding himself that he hadn't been called Zemuul for at least a decade. And what had happened to the people who had used the name. He shook himself from his reverie. Karel. The name came unbidden to his mind. Praying with her each morning, greeting the sun while her holy symbol glistened in the morning light, had summoned a feeling within him he had never known and had curbed the darkness within him. He felt the stirrings of something she told him was a conscience. And it had been working. Where was she? His eyes focused slowly on his surroundings. Most of his party was dead. Markus, head caved in with the ridiculous horned helmet of his laying just next to him. Heim had 3 arrows lodged in his back as he had been crawling for his pack for his weapon. Rykus had put up a fight, at least - no surprise, the wizard had always seemed like the type to go down swinging and he had been on watch. The frail man was surrounded by three statues - elves it appeared - and two bodies burned far beyond recognition. That had been what woken him, the screams of the burning (or of the wizard screaming his chants, either way). But Karel was gone. Safe. Then he saw her. Eyes wide. Staring at him, he imagined, but even in death they weren't accusatory. It had been Karel who had convinced the group that he was redeemable. That he could be a worthy ally in their crusade against the encroaching darkness. Her black hair frame a face that almost looked asleep, if it weren't for the vacant stare. And the red lines criss-crossing her linen garments. Always told her she couldn't rely on her god, he thought, Gods always let you own in the end. So why the attack? The prisoner. Abe realized then that their bounty was gone. The Lektrik's Guild deserter. His spot around the fire was empty, pack gone. His binding remained. Abe had tied them himself and took a grim sense of satisfaction at the sight that they had been sliced and not untied, at least. Abe grunted as he pulled the arrow from his chest slowly. It hurt, as he deserved. He was alive because of a fluke. Karel was dead. Who would greet the sun with him? Was it even worth greeting? He crawled over to her. The fingers of one of her hands were curled tightly around her holy symbol, a copper and gold sunburst. But the other hand clutched the rough, ugly bear Abe had whittled for her from ironwood. His vision dimmed. Abe stood slowly. The team had been efficient and swift. They hadn't looted anyone. A quick job, in and out with the bounty. That was their mistake. Abe coughed and spat a mouthful of blood before reaching down beneath his bedroll and pulling his twin kukris from their resting place. He had promised Karel to stop wearing them and he would honor that promise one day, but today was not that day. He looked closely at one of the statues surrounding Rykus. The elf was frozen in time, a look of surprise on his face as he was captured mid-swing. Abe noted the details - the two earrings in the left ear, the wickedly curved dagger - and knew his destination. A part of him, the part that Karel had called his conscience, felt bad for what was about to happen to the people who had done this. Abe shook his head. This was no time for cold feet. He shook his head and looked back at her body, apologizing in advance. Zemuul turned and followed the tracks that led away from camp and towards the elven town of Chret. There was a reckoning due.
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	They were good people. That’s always what you heard whenever you went tavern diving or strayed around markets. But, of course, it would always be followed by “but that shady one makes me feel uneasy.” You were that shady one, but you couldn’t really fault them, or get angry. On the whole ‘light-side crusade’ that was their party, anyone who wasn’t lawful good or lawful neutral would automatically be the dark one. And you were fine with that. They were strong, supportive, and slowly, you started to see some of the lighter things in life. Perhaps good things could happen to good people at times. You were out in a local dive when the attack occured. You were half-listening to a sad drunk’s tale while sipping your own drink, completely unaware that your party was being attacked at that very moment. After making some new contacts you returned to the small encampment your party had set up, but instead to a quiet night broken only by whichever poor sap had drawn the night shift, you returned to a half-destroyed battlefield with no signs of life. Of course, there were small clues that his party had been fighting. Deep gouges in the earth, the occasional missed arrow, or even small splatters of blood. But no bodies. No tracks leading to wherever their unconscious bodies had been carried off to. You completely dug up that camp, almost maddened in your search for any trace, any lead, but you failed. It was as if they had disappeared in the midst of fighting, as if they had been carried away to some strange other world. That meant magic. You hated magic. Nothing good came out of magic, especially for someone such as you. Truth compulsions, magical tracking, all had screwed you over at some time or the other. Technically, healing was classified as Divine Magic so your whole hatred was justified, but you knew how close to hypocrisy you came. Still, you weren’t unwelcome to the occasional haste buff or piercing enchantment your magically-inclined allies casted upon you during combat, so you tolerated it. However, occasionally magic was used to complete feats of complete bullshit, such as teleporting an entire party from an area while leaving no traces. You reaffirmed that they were just waiting for you to find them. They were not dead. In order to find them, however, you were going to have to go through drastic measures. Thus, you found yourself outside a church. You didn’t know what distinguished churches from temples or chapels, but all you knew was that this place of worship was willing to perform certain rituals for certain fees. You didn’t really care about all the people you had to rob, steal from, or con in order to pay the price necessary. What? It’s not like you would pay for this using your own money. The source of your money aside, you felt trepidation as you approached the church’s doors. It had been years-no decades since you had been in one. That.. that was when you were younger. When the world was a little brighter. Even with proof of gods and higher beings you still felt skepticism when faced with religion. Though today, you would have to renounce all that. There was a nun waiting by the door for any travellers, and you could tell from the way her arms tensed that she expected you to start some sort of trouble. Inwardly, you scoffed. Of course even here there was bigotry and assumptions. Though you had never directly clashed with your party’s paladin, there was always something in her gaze that made you feel.. unclean. Apparently this was where she got it from. You were about to explain what your purpose was, but the nun raised a hand to quiet you. “We already know why you have come here. Our God sent us a vision explaining your plight. We are willing to assist you in this noble and good endeavour, provided, of course, you find some way to.. dispose of your ill-begotten gains.” At your confused expression, the nun simply motioned to the side, where a box labeled “DONATIONS” was waiting. Of course. The tracking ritual was.. disconcerting. It had required you to divulge.. personal details about yourself to the nuns in the room and the deity, and you weren’t exactly sure how to feel about that. Maybe it was the knowing look the nun gave you, or perhaps it was the Otherness of the ritual, but you felt ill at ease with yourself. But you forced the feeling down. The ritual was successful, and you had managed to find the place the ritual had described. Thankfully, it was only a fortress. If it had been another monastery you might have left your party altogether. You quickly infiltrated the fortress, and slowly started to move towards your party while disguised as a maid. Nobody questioned your movements, too afraid that you were on an important someone’s bidding, so you quickly found your way into the heart of the fortress. Finally, you found your way to your party. A smile threatened to break on your face, but you forced it down. It would completely destroy your respect amongst your group! You quickly slaughtered the feeble guardsmen, and then walked into the prisoners’ room. There, slightly hurt but not dead, was your party. You could see the surprise in their eyes when they saw you, but they were silent. Finally, the white mage asked, “So, uh, is the maid thing permanent?” There were a small round of snickers, and you felt the inexplicable urge to leave them all there. Then again, you had gone through all this trouble. You reach down unlock their chains with the keys you had pilfered from the guards outside, and as you’re leaning down over the paladin, she asks, “Was it hard to find us?” You considered telling the truth, telling them about your visit to the church and how they had thought you were on some ‘noble’ quest to save them. But then you simply said “It was only a fortress.” and left it at that. The paladin’s truth-sight wasn’t fooled, but she was gracious enough that she didn’t call you out when the rest of the party started to laugh. You unlocked the your last party member, a shifty spellsword that you could swear had been a thief once, and look back to the assembled party. This time, you allowed the smile to show on your face. Though what you planned went directly against what some of their alignments might stand for, you had the feeling that they would be all to happy to play along. “Let’s slaughter our way out of here.”	Abe came to slowly. Already losing his edge - in the old days it would have taken a lot more than a steel-toed boot in the darkness to send him senseless. But that didn't explain the feeling in his chest. Rolling his eyes, he glanced down. Fuck. A knife. Buried in his chest, where his heart should be. Everyone knows Zemuul's heart is on his right-side, he thought, before reminding himself that he hadn't been called Zemuul for at least a decade. And what had happened to the people who had used the name. He shook himself from his reverie. Karel. The name came unbidden to his mind. Praying with her each morning, greeting the sun while her holy symbol glistened in the morning light, had summoned a feeling within him he had never known and had curbed the darkness within him. He felt the stirrings of something she told him was a conscience. And it had been working. Where was she? His eyes focused slowly on his surroundings. Most of his party was dead. Markus, head caved in with the ridiculous horned helmet of his laying just next to him. Heim had 3 arrows lodged in his back as he had been crawling for his pack for his weapon. Rykus had put up a fight, at least - no surprise, the wizard had always seemed like the type to go down swinging and he had been on watch. The frail man was surrounded by three statues - elves it appeared - and two bodies burned far beyond recognition. That had been what woken him, the screams of the burning (or of the wizard screaming his chants, either way). But Karel was gone. Safe. Then he saw her. Eyes wide. Staring at him, he imagined, but even in death they weren't accusatory. It had been Karel who had convinced the group that he was redeemable. That he could be a worthy ally in their crusade against the encroaching darkness. Her black hair frame a face that almost looked asleep, if it weren't for the vacant stare. And the red lines criss-crossing her linen garments. Always told her she couldn't rely on her god, he thought, Gods always let you own in the end. So why the attack? The prisoner. Abe realized then that their bounty was gone. The Lektrik's Guild deserter. His spot around the fire was empty, pack gone. His binding remained. Abe had tied them himself and took a grim sense of satisfaction at the sight that they had been sliced and not untied, at least. Abe grunted as he pulled the arrow from his chest slowly. It hurt, as he deserved. He was alive because of a fluke. Karel was dead. Who would greet the sun with him? Was it even worth greeting? He crawled over to her. The fingers of one of her hands were curled tightly around her holy symbol, a copper and gold sunburst. But the other hand clutched the rough, ugly bear Abe had whittled for her from ironwood. His vision dimmed. Abe stood slowly. The team had been efficient and swift. They hadn't looted anyone. A quick job, in and out with the bounty. That was their mistake. Abe coughed and spat a mouthful of blood before reaching down beneath his bedroll and pulling his twin kukris from their resting place. He had promised Karel to stop wearing them and he would honor that promise one day, but today was not that day. He looked closely at one of the statues surrounding Rykus. The elf was frozen in time, a look of surprise on his face as he was captured mid-swing. Abe noted the details - the two earrings in the left ear, the wickedly curved dagger - and knew his destination. A part of him, the part that Karel had called his conscience, felt bad for what was about to happen to the people who had done this. Abe shook his head. This was no time for cold feet. He shook his head and looked back at her body, apologizing in advance. Zemuul turned and followed the tracks that led away from camp and towards the elven town of Chret. There was a reckoning due.
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	“I wouldn’t call myself an Evil person, just more of a compulsive liar.” That is what I always told them; I doubt they all got the double-entendre but my reluctance to admit my own faults certainly aided the party on many occasions. “The Party”, a moniker I always used with pleasure after explaining to Paladin Hines that a group only really became a party with the addition of a whore. He almost seemed to relish the opportunity to hold his temper in check, a self-flagellation that vindicated his own faith. If anything, it secured my position with the party, kept him from urging the others to push me out. To do so would be admitting I was getting the better of him. Instead we worked together in ways others could not. A lot of our line of work is getting the right information, not just cracking heads or rescuing damsels. Interrogation isn’t easy work when the prisoner knows you won’t do anything very rough to them. That is where I came in, the villain who might plausibly peel their fingernails off if the honorable paladin didn’t keep stopping me. I wasn’t really in any hurry to do something like that. Too much like work. But they didn’t know that and it worked a treat. But that wasn’t going to work now. I had smelled trouble and went to ground, cutting contact and avoiding everyone I knew for a few days. Those are the sort of instincts that keep someone alive in my line of business; if everything is fine you just pop back up after a couple days and nobody is the wiser. Cultivating a mysterious reputation is hardly the worst thing one can do, keep Hines wondering what I was up to. In this case it turned out to have been the right move. When I returned they were gone barely 12 hours. Of course I first assumed they had finally ditched me, saw through my façade and figured they should cut their losses while I was missing. That was perhaps the most terrifying thought; not that they had finally wised up, but that my instincts had been so far wrong. If I could miss this group planning a move like that then in any other case I would have ended up with a knife between my ribs. Might as well lay down and die right now. A little investigation proved I had not misjudged as their bar tab from the previous night was unpaid. Leaving me behind was plausible but welching on a debt wasn’t something Hines would even contemplate. Nobody had seen anything. That was a problem, a real problem. That many skilled warriors vanishing without a trace, without a commotion or clue was the work of professionals. The innkeeper didn’t understand, not seeing past the trivial sum he was owed, but my business was making people disappear. Give me a fat purse and plenty of time to build my team… and I still wouldn’t be sure of pulling such a thing off. Wouldn’t try either, who cares if there are some bloodstains or noise? The group you were after could fight a quarter of the town guard to a standstill anyway, if you could handle them you could handle any response from the law. Might even benefit by making a statement. So there was no motive, no method, and no clues, which in itself is a clue. It meant they knew what they were doing and that meant leaving nothing to chance, so I would start with the guard. Even if they were no real threat it wouldn’t be left to dumb luck if they wandered into the area when the plan took place, which implied someone was influenced. That person was going to be die in short order (nothing left to chance) so I would need to move quickly, getting to them first before their “accidental” death could be arranged. Luckily I could narrow down the search. Guardsmen with healthy family relationships were highest on the list, as threats against their lives were the best leverage to ensure compliance. Knowing that it had worked in the past meant that capturing their family and torturing them in front of the guard would certainly get the information I was after, but it also meant that there was no other option. Just grabbing the guard would likely mean they kept silent to protect their loved ones. Involving the family was necessary, and unless I somehow chose the right guard from the start it would mean torturing and disposing of several guards and their immediate family as quickly as possible. Once that many families started being killed off whoever was behind my party’s disappearance was bound to figure out what was happening, devoting more resources to the coverup. Best case scenario I found the right guard and got some other information to go on. Even in that case my opponents would be killing several guards off as well, because if somehow my interrogation hadn’t worked they would need to imply that I had not picked the right one. Considering it was already obvious someone was looking for them they would also need to expand their killings to leave some ambiguity as to which one had actually been influenced, to hopefully waste time and throw me off their trail. Once the serial killings became known the guard families would become harder to access, perhaps being moved into the garrison, so in short order there would be an absolute bloodbath taking place. But maybe I could use some of my experience to my advantage. If I was in their shoes and a clever assassin I might be a compulsive liar. Even my lies might be lies, and all those guards I killed weren’t my man at all. Innocent guards would react differently than the one who had been threatened, that one would probably try to rabbit immediately. To keep attention off of them he might even be allowed to flee long enough for me to catch up with them. In any case it was going to be a long few nights ahead of me.	Abe came to slowly. Already losing his edge - in the old days it would have taken a lot more than a steel-toed boot in the darkness to send him senseless. But that didn't explain the feeling in his chest. Rolling his eyes, he glanced down. Fuck. A knife. Buried in his chest, where his heart should be. Everyone knows Zemuul's heart is on his right-side, he thought, before reminding himself that he hadn't been called Zemuul for at least a decade. And what had happened to the people who had used the name. He shook himself from his reverie. Karel. The name came unbidden to his mind. Praying with her each morning, greeting the sun while her holy symbol glistened in the morning light, had summoned a feeling within him he had never known and had curbed the darkness within him. He felt the stirrings of something she told him was a conscience. And it had been working. Where was she? His eyes focused slowly on his surroundings. Most of his party was dead. Markus, head caved in with the ridiculous horned helmet of his laying just next to him. Heim had 3 arrows lodged in his back as he had been crawling for his pack for his weapon. Rykus had put up a fight, at least - no surprise, the wizard had always seemed like the type to go down swinging and he had been on watch. The frail man was surrounded by three statues - elves it appeared - and two bodies burned far beyond recognition. That had been what woken him, the screams of the burning (or of the wizard screaming his chants, either way). But Karel was gone. Safe. Then he saw her. Eyes wide. Staring at him, he imagined, but even in death they weren't accusatory. It had been Karel who had convinced the group that he was redeemable. That he could be a worthy ally in their crusade against the encroaching darkness. Her black hair frame a face that almost looked asleep, if it weren't for the vacant stare. And the red lines criss-crossing her linen garments. Always told her she couldn't rely on her god, he thought, Gods always let you own in the end. So why the attack? The prisoner. Abe realized then that their bounty was gone. The Lektrik's Guild deserter. His spot around the fire was empty, pack gone. His binding remained. Abe had tied them himself and took a grim sense of satisfaction at the sight that they had been sliced and not untied, at least. Abe grunted as he pulled the arrow from his chest slowly. It hurt, as he deserved. He was alive because of a fluke. Karel was dead. Who would greet the sun with him? Was it even worth greeting? He crawled over to her. The fingers of one of her hands were curled tightly around her holy symbol, a copper and gold sunburst. But the other hand clutched the rough, ugly bear Abe had whittled for her from ironwood. His vision dimmed. Abe stood slowly. The team had been efficient and swift. They hadn't looted anyone. A quick job, in and out with the bounty. That was their mistake. Abe coughed and spat a mouthful of blood before reaching down beneath his bedroll and pulling his twin kukris from their resting place. He had promised Karel to stop wearing them and he would honor that promise one day, but today was not that day. He looked closely at one of the statues surrounding Rykus. The elf was frozen in time, a look of surprise on his face as he was captured mid-swing. Abe noted the details - the two earrings in the left ear, the wickedly curved dagger - and knew his destination. A part of him, the part that Karel had called his conscience, felt bad for what was about to happen to the people who had done this. Abe shook his head. This was no time for cold feet. He shook his head and looked back at her body, apologizing in advance. Zemuul turned and followed the tracks that led away from camp and towards the elven town of Chret. There was a reckoning due.
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	He took them. He took the only three people who were really willing to give me a chance. The only people who didn't abandon me after seeing me torture someone for information. They made me promise never to go that far again, and I agreed, because having them with me was worth it. He fucking took them, and he was going to suffer for it. I knew the location that he took them from. We were in an inn. we were going to fight them. It is time to get some fucking information. I walked down the stairs and looked around the room. The bartender was standing there looking tired, a party of adventurers were there drinking and having a "good time", and some towns people were still here. I started to channel. Suddenly dark magic swirled around me, like black serpents. I pointed at the guy I assumed was the adventurer's tank, and he fell to ash. Then I cleared my throat. "I am not here to fuck around. I need information and I will end anyone who doesn't-" "Holy SHIT! You killed Gheregg!" This was from some fool in full armor. He started to get up from his stool but I wasn't in the mood. I pointed at him and he started coughing up smoke. Soon he fell backwards off his stool. "I will repeat my self only one more time. I am not here to deal with your petty bullshit. I will kill everyone in this god damn room and resurrect you fuckers until I get the information I need. Now listen closely. Who. The fuck. Took my friends." The room fell silent and I put out a circle of truth big enough to surround the town. Suddenly a small child ran for the door. I made a lifting motion with my hands and summoned a demon from the ground. "Catch him and drag him back here." The creature that could be described as a traditional demon but with an octopus with 8 foot long testicles for a head charged after the child. "My first question is for you barkeep. Who came up those stairs while I was gone, and I expected names" She was as pale as a ghost and blubbering incoherently. I walked up to her and put my hand under her head. "I know you know something, and I need you to talk. Relax and tell the truth and you will walk out of here. Keep panicking and I may need to 'modify' you to make you more accommodating." "I... I. Um. I saw..." This wasn't going to work, she was clearly too terrified to speak. I took out my knife and rammed it into her heart. A terrified shriek came from the crowd. I then touched her corpse and she stood up. "Minion, I need to know who went up to those room while I was gone." "yes master. Gheregg and Steern went up, but I believe they went to their room. Those two would be the two who you killed earlier. The child that ran from here, Rikkard went there to clean the room. He was in the room for a while." She pointed to a priest and a mage. the priest was crying over the two corpses. "They went up as well. again their rooms are also up those stairs." At this point I heard screaming coming from the door. "No! Please let me go! Someone help me!" I walked over to the armored corpse and caste a reanimation spell on it. "Warrior, interrogate the child. See what he knows happened in the room. and find out where my party is." "Yes master." it said in a raspy voice, smoke still billowing out of its mouth. I turned back to the barkeep, "Go on.". "Yes, that was all who went up to the 2nd story." "And who in this town is affiliated with the mage Rrhekoette." "None openly. At least none who I know of. He is hated here, and causes much suffering." Screaming from the other room was growing louder. "I'll be right back." I walked into the room where the child was. When I walked in he was missing an eye and had the a dagger through his right foot. I walked up to the warrior and motioned for him to guard the front. "Listen boy, I can make this pain go away. I just need to know why you ran away." "I. I got scared sir. You killed those two men, and... and I thought... I thought I might be able to hide." "ah yes. I get that a lot. I know I look old, but I assure you, I can not be escaped. So tell me... Rikkard was it?" He looked at me startled. "Yes sir?" "Why were you in my room talking to my friends?" "I was tasked with changing the sheets." "And why did you take so long?" "They was talking to me." "And tell me, what did they have to say?" "They was trying to ask how I ended up working here." "I see, now this next part is very crucial Rikkard. I need you to give me a clue. Something that will direct me to where by friends were taken. If you can't do that then I fear your pain will become so much worse before it gets better. Tell me something I can use and your pain will end quickly." "When I left their room, I heard a crash and looked back in the room and they were gone. I found ash around the room. I had to clean it and that was what took me so long." The kid was a wreck by this point, and I knew he would never recover from this turmoil. So I held up my end of the bargain. "Behlzikin, end the child's suffering." The child couldn't even react before the demon sucked the child into it's mouth. I walked past the bar patrons and back up to the room. I sat down and started meditating. Soon I found what the child alerted me to. I felt the spell, a teleportation spell. I knew now how to track it and I set up my own spell to take me to where they were taken. I felt the spell activate and soon I was there. A prison cell with the only people is this terrible world I cared about. I could start acting how I they expected me to again. We were going to be OK.	Abe came to slowly. Already losing his edge - in the old days it would have taken a lot more than a steel-toed boot in the darkness to send him senseless. But that didn't explain the feeling in his chest. Rolling his eyes, he glanced down. Fuck. A knife. Buried in his chest, where his heart should be. Everyone knows Zemuul's heart is on his right-side, he thought, before reminding himself that he hadn't been called Zemuul for at least a decade. And what had happened to the people who had used the name. He shook himself from his reverie. Karel. The name came unbidden to his mind. Praying with her each morning, greeting the sun while her holy symbol glistened in the morning light, had summoned a feeling within him he had never known and had curbed the darkness within him. He felt the stirrings of something she told him was a conscience. And it had been working. Where was she? His eyes focused slowly on his surroundings. Most of his party was dead. Markus, head caved in with the ridiculous horned helmet of his laying just next to him. Heim had 3 arrows lodged in his back as he had been crawling for his pack for his weapon. Rykus had put up a fight, at least - no surprise, the wizard had always seemed like the type to go down swinging and he had been on watch. The frail man was surrounded by three statues - elves it appeared - and two bodies burned far beyond recognition. That had been what woken him, the screams of the burning (or of the wizard screaming his chants, either way). But Karel was gone. Safe. Then he saw her. Eyes wide. Staring at him, he imagined, but even in death they weren't accusatory. It had been Karel who had convinced the group that he was redeemable. That he could be a worthy ally in their crusade against the encroaching darkness. Her black hair frame a face that almost looked asleep, if it weren't for the vacant stare. And the red lines criss-crossing her linen garments. Always told her she couldn't rely on her god, he thought, Gods always let you own in the end. So why the attack? The prisoner. Abe realized then that their bounty was gone. The Lektrik's Guild deserter. His spot around the fire was empty, pack gone. His binding remained. Abe had tied them himself and took a grim sense of satisfaction at the sight that they had been sliced and not untied, at least. Abe grunted as he pulled the arrow from his chest slowly. It hurt, as he deserved. He was alive because of a fluke. Karel was dead. Who would greet the sun with him? Was it even worth greeting? He crawled over to her. The fingers of one of her hands were curled tightly around her holy symbol, a copper and gold sunburst. But the other hand clutched the rough, ugly bear Abe had whittled for her from ironwood. His vision dimmed. Abe stood slowly. The team had been efficient and swift. They hadn't looted anyone. A quick job, in and out with the bounty. That was their mistake. Abe coughed and spat a mouthful of blood before reaching down beneath his bedroll and pulling his twin kukris from their resting place. He had promised Karel to stop wearing them and he would honor that promise one day, but today was not that day. He looked closely at one of the statues surrounding Rykus. The elf was frozen in time, a look of surprise on his face as he was captured mid-swing. Abe noted the details - the two earrings in the left ear, the wickedly curved dagger - and knew his destination. A part of him, the part that Karel had called his conscience, felt bad for what was about to happen to the people who had done this. Abe shook his head. This was no time for cold feet. He shook his head and looked back at her body, apologizing in advance. Zemuul turned and followed the tracks that led away from camp and towards the elven town of Chret. There was a reckoning due.
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	He was afraid, I could smell it on him. Who wouldn’t be. “You don’t know what you’re dooming me to.” He said pathetically, struggling with his bonds. I looked up from the dagger I was sharpening and smiled. “Yes I do.” That got a reaction out of him. A funny little squeal of fear. I nearly chuckled but kept my composure. “Why are you doing this?” He asked pleadingly. I rolled my eyes. “Why do you care? Will it hurt less if you know why I’m pulling your intestines out through your belly button? “Oh shit.” He spluttered, starting to sob now. I chuckled. Couldn’t help myself. Neither could he, judging by the dark stain growing on the front of his pants. I tossed the dagger up in the air and caught it by the hilt and stood up with a satisfied grunt. I went around, double checking that everything was in place. This was a tricky business, no take backs. But hey, l like playing for keeps. Without looking up from the circle of protection I said, “My friends, they’ve gone missing for a while now so I figure that they’ve gone and got themselves killed.” I stood and inspected the various runes carved into the ground, filled with goat’s blood. “They’re the good-guy types, always going around, trying to fix shit.” He let out a groan and I nodded appreciatively. “Heh, yeah, it can be pretty annoying at times.” I flipped through the book until I found the right summoning spells. “H-h-how do you know if this is even going to work? What if decides to drag you into the Pit as well?” He said, trying to reason his way out this one. I grinned. “You think this is my first time? What about me says ‘virginal’ to you? No, this isn’t the only time I’ve had to bring them back from the abyss because of some cockeyed good-guy bullshit that went badly.” I let out a short laugh, “One time I did this ritual when I thought they had got themselves killed by some very nasty Orc fellows but it turned out we just got separated. Hilarious. I would’ve told them but they wouldn’t have appreciated the humor.” “How could they be good if they cavort with the likes of you?” He spat venomously. This question took me aback and I paused for a moment, thinking it over. “Well, I don’t know if they’re actually good or not. They seem like good-guys to me but maybe my standard is a bit off from regulation. They don’t know about this though, or some of the other stuff I do. But I’m willing to do anything to pretty much anyone if it get’s me what I want. Maybe that makes me a bad guy.” The preparations were finished. I was ready to begin. I stood over him and raised the dagger above his chest. I looked down, directly in his eyes and smiled. “But who says the bad guy can’t have friends?” And in a swift motion, I brought the knife down.	Abe came to slowly. Already losing his edge - in the old days it would have taken a lot more than a steel-toed boot in the darkness to send him senseless. But that didn't explain the feeling in his chest. Rolling his eyes, he glanced down. Fuck. A knife. Buried in his chest, where his heart should be. Everyone knows Zemuul's heart is on his right-side, he thought, before reminding himself that he hadn't been called Zemuul for at least a decade. And what had happened to the people who had used the name. He shook himself from his reverie. Karel. The name came unbidden to his mind. Praying with her each morning, greeting the sun while her holy symbol glistened in the morning light, had summoned a feeling within him he had never known and had curbed the darkness within him. He felt the stirrings of something she told him was a conscience. And it had been working. Where was she? His eyes focused slowly on his surroundings. Most of his party was dead. Markus, head caved in with the ridiculous horned helmet of his laying just next to him. Heim had 3 arrows lodged in his back as he had been crawling for his pack for his weapon. Rykus had put up a fight, at least - no surprise, the wizard had always seemed like the type to go down swinging and he had been on watch. The frail man was surrounded by three statues - elves it appeared - and two bodies burned far beyond recognition. That had been what woken him, the screams of the burning (or of the wizard screaming his chants, either way). But Karel was gone. Safe. Then he saw her. Eyes wide. Staring at him, he imagined, but even in death they weren't accusatory. It had been Karel who had convinced the group that he was redeemable. That he could be a worthy ally in their crusade against the encroaching darkness. Her black hair frame a face that almost looked asleep, if it weren't for the vacant stare. And the red lines criss-crossing her linen garments. Always told her she couldn't rely on her god, he thought, Gods always let you own in the end. So why the attack? The prisoner. Abe realized then that their bounty was gone. The Lektrik's Guild deserter. His spot around the fire was empty, pack gone. His binding remained. Abe had tied them himself and took a grim sense of satisfaction at the sight that they had been sliced and not untied, at least. Abe grunted as he pulled the arrow from his chest slowly. It hurt, as he deserved. He was alive because of a fluke. Karel was dead. Who would greet the sun with him? Was it even worth greeting? He crawled over to her. The fingers of one of her hands were curled tightly around her holy symbol, a copper and gold sunburst. But the other hand clutched the rough, ugly bear Abe had whittled for her from ironwood. His vision dimmed. Abe stood slowly. The team had been efficient and swift. They hadn't looted anyone. A quick job, in and out with the bounty. That was their mistake. Abe coughed and spat a mouthful of blood before reaching down beneath his bedroll and pulling his twin kukris from their resting place. He had promised Karel to stop wearing them and he would honor that promise one day, but today was not that day. He looked closely at one of the statues surrounding Rykus. The elf was frozen in time, a look of surprise on his face as he was captured mid-swing. Abe noted the details - the two earrings in the left ear, the wickedly curved dagger - and knew his destination. A part of him, the part that Karel had called his conscience, felt bad for what was about to happen to the people who had done this. Abe shook his head. This was no time for cold feet. He shook his head and looked back at her body, apologizing in advance. Zemuul turned and followed the tracks that led away from camp and towards the elven town of Chret. There was a reckoning due.
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	"You know, when they asked me to join them, they made me swear I had never broken any laws." I looked down at the half-elf staked spread eagle to the floor. "That was actually true. But they didn't think to ask if I had ever done anything, hmm. Morally questionable." I checked the ropes and my supplies. All was well, of course, but one never could be too careful. "They never asked me what it was I actually did in the king's service." The petty noble's eyes widened as he thrashed about in impotent rage. I stepped on his neck, just enough to remind him of his vulnerable position. He stopped struggling, but glared at me with hatred in his eyes. "I am now going to remove your gag, my friend. We are going to have a conversation. Well, in truth, I fear it will be a bit one sided. You will tell me all you know." I knelt down behind his head and removed the gag. He spat at me, but I had chosen my position carefully and was easily able to move out of the way. Long experience stood me in good stead. "Do you know who I am! How dare you lay your filthy hands on me. I will have you flogged! No, I will have you flayed! Suppressing the urge to roll my eyes was difficult. "And how, pray tell, do you plan on making that happen, Cirloc?" He fell silent, and I almost laughed at his expression. "Raising your voice is usually enough for you, isn't it?" He looked at me, bewildered and angry. He began screaming "Guards, guards! Help!" over and over again, until I put a foot in his ribs. "Please save your voice. I'm afraid you were unconscious longer than you think. If you had taken a moment to examine your surroundings, you would have perhaps noticed the fresh air. The deep woods at night are quite pleasant to the nose, I find. Much different than the stink of the city, is it not? Ah. I see the true nature of your situation is beginning to dawn on you. No one is coming for you. It is simply you," I said, tapping his forehead for emphasis, "and me." I stood up slowly, turning my back on him and gazing into the fire. "I want names, affiliations, relationships, locations, passwords, lock combinations. Their fucking shoe sizes." The venom in my voice took me by surprise. I took a deep breath. "You will tell me everything." "I'll tell you nothing! Flaying is too good for you! I'll have my servants tear" I raised a hand. "No doubt you were about to say something very creative, but time presses." My flat interruption shocked him into silence. "As for me, I prefer methods less theatrical. Tonight, for example, I have an iron bucket, a rope, and some rats." I nodded to the corner. "Shall we begin, then?" Some time later, as the echoes of his screams died with him, I doused the body and the cabin liberally with lantern oil, and as I exited into the cool night air, I capped the leather flask and tossed it into the fireplace. With practiced speed, I closed the door and walked up a nearby hill. I heard a muffled thump as the flask exploded, and as I gazed down into the rising blaze, I reflected back on my time with Cirloc. I had watched his eyes progress through each stage: Anger. Fear. Pain. Agony. Gibbering madness. And the look of acceptance, just before the end. Just like all the others. And now I had the information I needed. (Picture this performed by, say, Jeffrey Coombs. Let me know what you think.)	Abe came to slowly. Already losing his edge - in the old days it would have taken a lot more than a steel-toed boot in the darkness to send him senseless. But that didn't explain the feeling in his chest. Rolling his eyes, he glanced down. Fuck. A knife. Buried in his chest, where his heart should be. Everyone knows Zemuul's heart is on his right-side, he thought, before reminding himself that he hadn't been called Zemuul for at least a decade. And what had happened to the people who had used the name. He shook himself from his reverie. Karel. The name came unbidden to his mind. Praying with her each morning, greeting the sun while her holy symbol glistened in the morning light, had summoned a feeling within him he had never known and had curbed the darkness within him. He felt the stirrings of something she told him was a conscience. And it had been working. Where was she? His eyes focused slowly on his surroundings. Most of his party was dead. Markus, head caved in with the ridiculous horned helmet of his laying just next to him. Heim had 3 arrows lodged in his back as he had been crawling for his pack for his weapon. Rykus had put up a fight, at least - no surprise, the wizard had always seemed like the type to go down swinging and he had been on watch. The frail man was surrounded by three statues - elves it appeared - and two bodies burned far beyond recognition. That had been what woken him, the screams of the burning (or of the wizard screaming his chants, either way). But Karel was gone. Safe. Then he saw her. Eyes wide. Staring at him, he imagined, but even in death they weren't accusatory. It had been Karel who had convinced the group that he was redeemable. That he could be a worthy ally in their crusade against the encroaching darkness. Her black hair frame a face that almost looked asleep, if it weren't for the vacant stare. And the red lines criss-crossing her linen garments. Always told her she couldn't rely on her god, he thought, Gods always let you own in the end. So why the attack? The prisoner. Abe realized then that their bounty was gone. The Lektrik's Guild deserter. His spot around the fire was empty, pack gone. His binding remained. Abe had tied them himself and took a grim sense of satisfaction at the sight that they had been sliced and not untied, at least. Abe grunted as he pulled the arrow from his chest slowly. It hurt, as he deserved. He was alive because of a fluke. Karel was dead. Who would greet the sun with him? Was it even worth greeting? He crawled over to her. The fingers of one of her hands were curled tightly around her holy symbol, a copper and gold sunburst. But the other hand clutched the rough, ugly bear Abe had whittled for her from ironwood. His vision dimmed. Abe stood slowly. The team had been efficient and swift. They hadn't looted anyone. A quick job, in and out with the bounty. That was their mistake. Abe coughed and spat a mouthful of blood before reaching down beneath his bedroll and pulling his twin kukris from their resting place. He had promised Karel to stop wearing them and he would honor that promise one day, but today was not that day. He looked closely at one of the statues surrounding Rykus. The elf was frozen in time, a look of surprise on his face as he was captured mid-swing. Abe noted the details - the two earrings in the left ear, the wickedly curved dagger - and knew his destination. A part of him, the part that Karel had called his conscience, felt bad for what was about to happen to the people who had done this. Abe shook his head. This was no time for cold feet. He shook his head and looked back at her body, apologizing in advance. Zemuul turned and followed the tracks that led away from camp and towards the elven town of Chret. There was a reckoning due.
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	The portal sparked into life as my last movement completed its arc. You'd think that an energy portal would illuminate the oppressive darkness of the battlefield, but you'd be someone not born of hell. Anyone local would know what to expect. That dank greenness that dampens light instead of emitting it, that unmistakable void that makes hope no longer even a memory is easily recognized by anyone who's done some time in the pit. As the first lower level demons came through I was starting to feel the old twinges of bloodlust lapping at the carefully built up facade of humanity. I watched the demons shiver in excitement at the thrill of upcoming slaughter. I felt that shiver myself and I reveled in it. The gesture that started the slaughter came so naturally I didn't even notice making it. All these years of suppressing what I am. Of contstraining the inferno that is I. Limiting it to what is "human", did not make me forget anything. Instead, each action that awoke one of the parts of my true self now felt as an additional thrill. As the initial wave of demons crashed over the trolls protecting the entrance to the cave that swallowed my companions no more than an hour ago, I made another movement. The demons having felled the giant forest trolls that seemed impossibly strong to a mere human, fell back. Like well trained puppies, they waited for the command that would allow them to have some fun with the orcish inhabitants of the village that surrounded the entrance of the cave that was the only thing that mattered to me now. Asmodeth stepped through the portal first. If you've never seen a knight of hell entering a room before, you'd be forgiven for invoulntarily abandoning any pretense that what you up until that moment thought of as a meaningful life was in fact an empty existence, devoid of purpose. You would come to that realization for many reasons. Highest among them would likely be the absolute perfection of her form as a destroyer. She stands seven feet tall, unless she's feeling underappreciated, at which point she stretches herself to the full nine. All of that is muscle and venomous spikes, constructed to be the ultimate in sheer battlefield domination. She's entered battles before and emerged unscathed as the lone survivor, both sides of the battle consigned to ignominy of not being in the written histories. That's the thing about Asmodeth, she doesn't care about the sides. She does what I desire, and I didn't used to care about either side of the battle. All that mattered was the fallen. I cared now... Jared, with that jagged scar running across his face that made him look fearsome until you spent some time with him at a campfire and listened to the stories full of love, loss and longing. Ariel, of the pointed ears and the tinkling laugh. He made your heart skip a beat just looking at him, even as he sliced through the throngs of enemies we faced together throughout this past year. Ot'eth, of the Southern Forge, the hardest mage ever produced by the unique conditions of that terrible place that was designed to melt away anything that was not in the service of making the spells sing with power. The poems that she muttered under her breath were like the most beautiful perls of soul in word form. She would share them with you once you'd spent enough nights together drinking Hivish elixir. They were all in that cave. Now as Bradthfet slithered across the Portal, I finally took off the mask. As my horns came free, time paused momentarily and the world had to adjust to the horns now being part of it. A few islands far in the ocean sank to equalize the energy differential that the horns created. The knights, now lined up in an attack pattern, visibly shook. It was a shake of anticipation. They knew what was coming next. I did not make them wait. With a slight movement of the head, the horns now pointed to the cave. I roared...	Abe came to slowly. Already losing his edge - in the old days it would have taken a lot more than a steel-toed boot in the darkness to send him senseless. But that didn't explain the feeling in his chest. Rolling his eyes, he glanced down. Fuck. A knife. Buried in his chest, where his heart should be. Everyone knows Zemuul's heart is on his right-side, he thought, before reminding himself that he hadn't been called Zemuul for at least a decade. And what had happened to the people who had used the name. He shook himself from his reverie. Karel. The name came unbidden to his mind. Praying with her each morning, greeting the sun while her holy symbol glistened in the morning light, had summoned a feeling within him he had never known and had curbed the darkness within him. He felt the stirrings of something she told him was a conscience. And it had been working. Where was she? His eyes focused slowly on his surroundings. Most of his party was dead. Markus, head caved in with the ridiculous horned helmet of his laying just next to him. Heim had 3 arrows lodged in his back as he had been crawling for his pack for his weapon. Rykus had put up a fight, at least - no surprise, the wizard had always seemed like the type to go down swinging and he had been on watch. The frail man was surrounded by three statues - elves it appeared - and two bodies burned far beyond recognition. That had been what woken him, the screams of the burning (or of the wizard screaming his chants, either way). But Karel was gone. Safe. Then he saw her. Eyes wide. Staring at him, he imagined, but even in death they weren't accusatory. It had been Karel who had convinced the group that he was redeemable. That he could be a worthy ally in their crusade against the encroaching darkness. Her black hair frame a face that almost looked asleep, if it weren't for the vacant stare. And the red lines criss-crossing her linen garments. Always told her she couldn't rely on her god, he thought, Gods always let you own in the end. So why the attack? The prisoner. Abe realized then that their bounty was gone. The Lektrik's Guild deserter. His spot around the fire was empty, pack gone. His binding remained. Abe had tied them himself and took a grim sense of satisfaction at the sight that they had been sliced and not untied, at least. Abe grunted as he pulled the arrow from his chest slowly. It hurt, as he deserved. He was alive because of a fluke. Karel was dead. Who would greet the sun with him? Was it even worth greeting? He crawled over to her. The fingers of one of her hands were curled tightly around her holy symbol, a copper and gold sunburst. But the other hand clutched the rough, ugly bear Abe had whittled for her from ironwood. His vision dimmed. Abe stood slowly. The team had been efficient and swift. They hadn't looted anyone. A quick job, in and out with the bounty. That was their mistake. Abe coughed and spat a mouthful of blood before reaching down beneath his bedroll and pulling his twin kukris from their resting place. He had promised Karel to stop wearing them and he would honor that promise one day, but today was not that day. He looked closely at one of the statues surrounding Rykus. The elf was frozen in time, a look of surprise on his face as he was captured mid-swing. Abe noted the details - the two earrings in the left ear, the wickedly curved dagger - and knew his destination. A part of him, the part that Karel had called his conscience, felt bad for what was about to happen to the people who had done this. Abe shook his head. This was no time for cold feet. He shook his head and looked back at her body, apologizing in advance. Zemuul turned and followed the tracks that led away from camp and towards the elven town of Chret. There was a reckoning due.
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	In the muted light of the room, Lakme's 'Flower Duet' played. It almost made for a romantic atmosphere. Almost. "You see... Marcus... here's the thing. I'm not what you would call a good person." Marcus O'Reilly sneered up at me from the chair to which I'd tied him. When he came in the door to his palatial estate home, I'd surprised him from behind with chloroform and a rag. He struggled for a few seconds, but even a man of his size and physical fitness couldn't resist the sweet siren call of slumber under those circumstances. I'd handcuffed him to the chair, positioned him in the middle of his massive living room, and waited patiently for him to wake up. I'd already been waiting hours for him to come home, so a couple more wasn't a huge deal at this point. When he finally awoke, blinking away the confusion and disorientation, he didn't notice me at first in the muted light. But once he did, his attention snapped to me and he grinned his trademark sadistic grin. He told me I was a dead man, that I didn't even know it yet. Then he asked me just what the hell I was trying to pull off, that he had to know before I died, so he could satisfy his curiosity. I just sat there in my chair, staring at him, expressionless. What seemed like an eternity passed before he spoke again. "Well asshole? What's your game plan here? I gotta know. You better talk quick, my security will be doing their sweeps any minute now, and when they do, you're as good as dead." I blinked, then adopted a concerned expression. "Security?" "Jesus," he said smugly. "You didn't think I'd have security? Who do you think you're dealing with?" "Oh, I know you had security," I said, reaching out with one booted foot and tipping over the large Rubbermaid bin, spilling its contents over the polished hardwood floor. "I just don't think they're going to be much help, is all." Marcus blanched as he saw eight severed heads roll onto the living room floor, leaving a coagulated blood trail behind them. "Jeff put up the biggest fight, in case you were wondering. His widow should get some kind of bonus." O'Reilly's eyes slowly lifted from the decapitated heads up to meet my eyes. "You think someone won't notice there's a problem? You'll never make it out of here alive," he said, but with less bravado this time. "Someone will notice I'm missing, and they'll come to check what happened. You're as good as dead." "By the time they do," I replied flatly, "They'll find nothing but a charred skeleton of your former house. There will be nothing left for them to use to track me down. I've made sure of that." Marcus lost his cool then, and struggled violently against his handcuffs, trying to escape. In his attempts, he flopped over onto his side, knocking his head against the floor. He groaned as I moved over and lifted him back up into a sitting position. "Here's the thing, Marcus. As I mentioned, I'm not a good person. You ordered my friends captured. I want them back. So I'm going to make you a very simple deal, one that you won't want to refuse." "Fuck you," he sputtered hatefully. I walked to the wall, switching on the rest of the lights in the room for the first time. His eyes went as wide as dinner plates. "As you can see," I said coldly, "I also have your wife, two daughters and son here tonight." Behind me, the wife and children also struggled against their bonds, their muffled cries now barely audible over the classical music, which had now changed to Tchaikovsky's 'Slave March'. "I'm going to give you a choice, Marcus. You die tonight, regardless. I just can't leave you alive, it's simply too risky. But I will give you the opportunity to let your wife and kids live." I slowly walked over to them, and began caressing the hair of his wife as she frantically struggled. "You tell me where my friends are. If I find them alive and unharmed, I will release your wife and kids. They will not have to share your fate, burning and suffocating in a horrifying house fire 'accident'." I moved, now caressing his older daughter's head as she cried soundlessly. "If you refuse, I will burn this place to the ground and move on to your senior lieutenant next. I'm pretty sure he'll talk, but even if he doesn't... I have plenty of chances to get this information from someone under your employ, so don't think for one second that I'm bluffing. You aren't the only option available to me. You have no cards to play here." His eyes moved from his family to the disembodied heads of his trusted guards, then back to me. I saw the look of resignation on his face as he realized I was correct. "You promise you'll let them go?" he asked quietly. "You have my word," I replied. "They don't know who I am." "You know," Marcus said with sad amusement, "You would have made an excellent addition to my organization." I smiled, coldly. "You have no idea how right you are."	Abe came to slowly. Already losing his edge - in the old days it would have taken a lot more than a steel-toed boot in the darkness to send him senseless. But that didn't explain the feeling in his chest. Rolling his eyes, he glanced down. Fuck. A knife. Buried in his chest, where his heart should be. Everyone knows Zemuul's heart is on his right-side, he thought, before reminding himself that he hadn't been called Zemuul for at least a decade. And what had happened to the people who had used the name. He shook himself from his reverie. Karel. The name came unbidden to his mind. Praying with her each morning, greeting the sun while her holy symbol glistened in the morning light, had summoned a feeling within him he had never known and had curbed the darkness within him. He felt the stirrings of something she told him was a conscience. And it had been working. Where was she? His eyes focused slowly on his surroundings. Most of his party was dead. Markus, head caved in with the ridiculous horned helmet of his laying just next to him. Heim had 3 arrows lodged in his back as he had been crawling for his pack for his weapon. Rykus had put up a fight, at least - no surprise, the wizard had always seemed like the type to go down swinging and he had been on watch. The frail man was surrounded by three statues - elves it appeared - and two bodies burned far beyond recognition. That had been what woken him, the screams of the burning (or of the wizard screaming his chants, either way). But Karel was gone. Safe. Then he saw her. Eyes wide. Staring at him, he imagined, but even in death they weren't accusatory. It had been Karel who had convinced the group that he was redeemable. That he could be a worthy ally in their crusade against the encroaching darkness. Her black hair frame a face that almost looked asleep, if it weren't for the vacant stare. And the red lines criss-crossing her linen garments. Always told her she couldn't rely on her god, he thought, Gods always let you own in the end. So why the attack? The prisoner. Abe realized then that their bounty was gone. The Lektrik's Guild deserter. His spot around the fire was empty, pack gone. His binding remained. Abe had tied them himself and took a grim sense of satisfaction at the sight that they had been sliced and not untied, at least. Abe grunted as he pulled the arrow from his chest slowly. It hurt, as he deserved. He was alive because of a fluke. Karel was dead. Who would greet the sun with him? Was it even worth greeting? He crawled over to her. The fingers of one of her hands were curled tightly around her holy symbol, a copper and gold sunburst. But the other hand clutched the rough, ugly bear Abe had whittled for her from ironwood. His vision dimmed. Abe stood slowly. The team had been efficient and swift. They hadn't looted anyone. A quick job, in and out with the bounty. That was their mistake. Abe coughed and spat a mouthful of blood before reaching down beneath his bedroll and pulling his twin kukris from their resting place. He had promised Karel to stop wearing them and he would honor that promise one day, but today was not that day. He looked closely at one of the statues surrounding Rykus. The elf was frozen in time, a look of surprise on his face as he was captured mid-swing. Abe noted the details - the two earrings in the left ear, the wickedly curved dagger - and knew his destination. A part of him, the part that Karel had called his conscience, felt bad for what was about to happen to the people who had done this. Abe shook his head. This was no time for cold feet. He shook his head and looked back at her body, apologizing in advance. Zemuul turned and followed the tracks that led away from camp and towards the elven town of Chret. There was a reckoning due.
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	"The child, save the child." Henshaw called out to you in if rough Half-Orc voice. Lynanna left her Half-Elf form and shaped changed into her bear formand charged into the enemy, Lejus charged with her. Amun was next you, but he was healing them and holding open the portal. You could see how much this use of magic was draining him. Save the child? The child is small, even for a child, some weird smaller goblin, no one knows what it was, but you all get paid to save it. The only problem is it's still almost the size of you. You throw it on your back drop to all fours and run as fast as your scaly legs can carry you. The portal is smaller than any of your allies already. It's now or never. As you run you here Amun say "Be Safe." The portal closed as soon as you went through. You are not talkative, you are not a caregiver, and now you have a child of an unknown species to take care of. Also, where are you? Okay, it looks you are on your world. Do you know this place? If only you were better at directions. In the distance you see a town, Stoneridge. It's where you met your friends. It's where you took this stupid job. All you want is to get strong enough to kill the dragon who leads your Kobold tribe. But these were the only people who have tolerated you. On the road you see a supply wagon coming from town. You block their path. They ask you to move. You motion for them to turn around. When it appeared that they were going to go around you started generating electricity. Then you had a ride back to town. After getting off the wagon you head toward town. The guards look at peculiar creature strapped to your back. It's the most attention they've paid to you since you joined your friends. Then you hear the people from the wagon talking to the guards. You scurry into town and back to the Guildhall. They seemed surprised to see you, and ask where the rest of the party is. They then ask you to hand over the child. You stand to your proud three foot height in a posture that says no. One member comes towards you. They get jolted with electricity for their trouble. They are upset at you. You just want help getting your friends back then they can have the kid. You jolt two more as they move to attack you. You won't be able to dodge the third. You are outside. How? Why? You don't know. But the door to the Guildhall is in front of you. You hear voices above you and you see a portal, into the Guildhall. It's coming from your back. The baby. It has powerful magic, maybe it can get you back to your friends. Then you see a small partol of guards, one from the entrance to the town is with them. They have spotted you. You hate walking, you hate running, it's why you normally traveled in Henshaw's bag. You especially hate running with an unknown magic child on you back. Running through the crowd, trying not to get trampled. You know all the buildings but not where to go. The downside to not walking anywhere yourself. There's less of a crowd this way so you run that way, it's unfamiliar. Then you realize you are headed towards the manor. Guards in front of the manor, guards chasing behind you. You create a wall of electricity on top the guards in front of you. They all fo down. You open the manor door and quickly shut it and lock it behind you. Done. There are two guards looking at you puzzled. They have guards inside too? The one guard tells you to hold, while the other opens the door, the two groups of guards, and the members of the guild are outside. You take the child off your back. They are circling you, telling you to put the child down. It's so hard to talk common. "Back! Friends!" You say to the child. Hands are going for you and more hands are reaching for the child. This time you see the floor beneath you open up. So do the guards and guild members. It opens beneath everyone. Your back. Where your friends were. Creatures around you are startled. But then they start attacking the guards. The guild and the guards fight back. You run, looking for your friends. Only Henshaw remains standing, he's guarding your wounded friends. You jolt your way to him. You hold up the child, "Take! Back!" you growl. The six of you are back outside town. You go into everyone's bag, take out a potion and give it to them. It seems with them being hurt, and all the fighting, no one saw all the people you brought with you. They are asking a lot of questions. Maybe you should have left them. Lyanna starts to head to Stoneridge. "No! They no pay, we keep." you growl as you pat the child.	Abe came to slowly. Already losing his edge - in the old days it would have taken a lot more than a steel-toed boot in the darkness to send him senseless. But that didn't explain the feeling in his chest. Rolling his eyes, he glanced down. Fuck. A knife. Buried in his chest, where his heart should be. Everyone knows Zemuul's heart is on his right-side, he thought, before reminding himself that he hadn't been called Zemuul for at least a decade. And what had happened to the people who had used the name. He shook himself from his reverie. Karel. The name came unbidden to his mind. Praying with her each morning, greeting the sun while her holy symbol glistened in the morning light, had summoned a feeling within him he had never known and had curbed the darkness within him. He felt the stirrings of something she told him was a conscience. And it had been working. Where was she? His eyes focused slowly on his surroundings. Most of his party was dead. Markus, head caved in with the ridiculous horned helmet of his laying just next to him. Heim had 3 arrows lodged in his back as he had been crawling for his pack for his weapon. Rykus had put up a fight, at least - no surprise, the wizard had always seemed like the type to go down swinging and he had been on watch. The frail man was surrounded by three statues - elves it appeared - and two bodies burned far beyond recognition. That had been what woken him, the screams of the burning (or of the wizard screaming his chants, either way). But Karel was gone. Safe. Then he saw her. Eyes wide. Staring at him, he imagined, but even in death they weren't accusatory. It had been Karel who had convinced the group that he was redeemable. That he could be a worthy ally in their crusade against the encroaching darkness. Her black hair frame a face that almost looked asleep, if it weren't for the vacant stare. And the red lines criss-crossing her linen garments. Always told her she couldn't rely on her god, he thought, Gods always let you own in the end. So why the attack? The prisoner. Abe realized then that their bounty was gone. The Lektrik's Guild deserter. His spot around the fire was empty, pack gone. His binding remained. Abe had tied them himself and took a grim sense of satisfaction at the sight that they had been sliced and not untied, at least. Abe grunted as he pulled the arrow from his chest slowly. It hurt, as he deserved. He was alive because of a fluke. Karel was dead. Who would greet the sun with him? Was it even worth greeting? He crawled over to her. The fingers of one of her hands were curled tightly around her holy symbol, a copper and gold sunburst. But the other hand clutched the rough, ugly bear Abe had whittled for her from ironwood. His vision dimmed. Abe stood slowly. The team had been efficient and swift. They hadn't looted anyone. A quick job, in and out with the bounty. That was their mistake. Abe coughed and spat a mouthful of blood before reaching down beneath his bedroll and pulling his twin kukris from their resting place. He had promised Karel to stop wearing them and he would honor that promise one day, but today was not that day. He looked closely at one of the statues surrounding Rykus. The elf was frozen in time, a look of surprise on his face as he was captured mid-swing. Abe noted the details - the two earrings in the left ear, the wickedly curved dagger - and knew his destination. A part of him, the part that Karel had called his conscience, felt bad for what was about to happen to the people who had done this. Abe shook his head. This was no time for cold feet. He shook his head and looked back at her body, apologizing in advance. Zemuul turned and followed the tracks that led away from camp and towards the elven town of Chret. There was a reckoning due.
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	On some level, I probably care about them. Gods, I need to stop. They don't matter to me. It doesn't matter who they are. They are objectively useful to me. They've helped me achieve my goals and that's all that matters. They're good fighters and I like to have them around in a pinch. These thoughts had been plagueing me for days. I know who I am. I'm a monster. I've killed bad men for crossing me, and better men for nothing. That is, until I started traveling with them. Târz was a decent orc. Big and brutish as he looked with his bare chest and double axes, he was actually a very thoughtful and intelligent creature. Funny. I guess my prejudices made me think he'd be a bit more like me when he recruited me to go with him and two other travelers to dispatch a gang of bandits. I figured it was just a good day's slaughter for a good days pay, but they actually cared enough to save the hostages and slaves. I'd never seen that before. It was Aelindriel who first mentioned saving them. Aelindriel? Aelindariel? Gods, I hate elvish names. Aelindel, that's it! Regardless, this elf actually went out of his way, damn near taking a bolt to the chest, just to save one slave. Wasn't a particularly useful maneuver. Could've gotten him killed, and it wasn't like the slave could fight. He was only a kid. I've still, to this very day, never seen someone take as many hits and keep getting up as he did that day. An axe wound to the shoulder didn't even stop him from carrying that kid back to the nearest town. Emotional, Elvish bastard. Probably wrote another one of his gods-damned poems about it. Still. I hope I get to hear one or two of them again. Well, I'd put up with hearing it if it meant I had his sword by my side. So I keep telling myself. I'm going to get them back. Whatever it takes. Gods damn that treacherous bastard. After a year of sticking around with these two and myself, the one human has to go and mess everything up. We'd traveled the plains of the west, the northern mountains where I grew up, and the lava fields to the south and shared many a feast over spoils from victory. I miss those times. It was just as profitable as being a bandit, and I never had to skip town over some band of "heroes" coming after me. Now look at me. My horse is, quite literally, covered in the blood of my enemies. I need to find a river or a lake or something. I can't let them zee me like this. Hell, I've got flesh in my teeth. They'd never let it fly that I tortured someone to find out where they were. On top of that, even I think that taking a chunk out of his calf might've been too far. There's no time for those thoughts now, though. I'll come to terms with who and what I am later. For now, I've got two heroes to save, a plot to expose, and a newly crowned prince to kill. Gods, I hope they never found out what I did to save them. I hope they never find out what I'm going to do. Edit: yo this is the first time I've gotten upvotes in this sub, I love you guys lmao	Abe came to slowly. Already losing his edge - in the old days it would have taken a lot more than a steel-toed boot in the darkness to send him senseless. But that didn't explain the feeling in his chest. Rolling his eyes, he glanced down. Fuck. A knife. Buried in his chest, where his heart should be. Everyone knows Zemuul's heart is on his right-side, he thought, before reminding himself that he hadn't been called Zemuul for at least a decade. And what had happened to the people who had used the name. He shook himself from his reverie. Karel. The name came unbidden to his mind. Praying with her each morning, greeting the sun while her holy symbol glistened in the morning light, had summoned a feeling within him he had never known and had curbed the darkness within him. He felt the stirrings of something she told him was a conscience. And it had been working. Where was she? His eyes focused slowly on his surroundings. Most of his party was dead. Markus, head caved in with the ridiculous horned helmet of his laying just next to him. Heim had 3 arrows lodged in his back as he had been crawling for his pack for his weapon. Rykus had put up a fight, at least - no surprise, the wizard had always seemed like the type to go down swinging and he had been on watch. The frail man was surrounded by three statues - elves it appeared - and two bodies burned far beyond recognition. That had been what woken him, the screams of the burning (or of the wizard screaming his chants, either way). But Karel was gone. Safe. Then he saw her. Eyes wide. Staring at him, he imagined, but even in death they weren't accusatory. It had been Karel who had convinced the group that he was redeemable. That he could be a worthy ally in their crusade against the encroaching darkness. Her black hair frame a face that almost looked asleep, if it weren't for the vacant stare. And the red lines criss-crossing her linen garments. Always told her she couldn't rely on her god, he thought, Gods always let you own in the end. So why the attack? The prisoner. Abe realized then that their bounty was gone. The Lektrik's Guild deserter. His spot around the fire was empty, pack gone. His binding remained. Abe had tied them himself and took a grim sense of satisfaction at the sight that they had been sliced and not untied, at least. Abe grunted as he pulled the arrow from his chest slowly. It hurt, as he deserved. He was alive because of a fluke. Karel was dead. Who would greet the sun with him? Was it even worth greeting? He crawled over to her. The fingers of one of her hands were curled tightly around her holy symbol, a copper and gold sunburst. But the other hand clutched the rough, ugly bear Abe had whittled for her from ironwood. His vision dimmed. Abe stood slowly. The team had been efficient and swift. They hadn't looted anyone. A quick job, in and out with the bounty. That was their mistake. Abe coughed and spat a mouthful of blood before reaching down beneath his bedroll and pulling his twin kukris from their resting place. He had promised Karel to stop wearing them and he would honor that promise one day, but today was not that day. He looked closely at one of the statues surrounding Rykus. The elf was frozen in time, a look of surprise on his face as he was captured mid-swing. Abe noted the details - the two earrings in the left ear, the wickedly curved dagger - and knew his destination. A part of him, the part that Karel had called his conscience, felt bad for what was about to happen to the people who had done this. Abe shook his head. This was no time for cold feet. He shook his head and looked back at her body, apologizing in advance. Zemuul turned and followed the tracks that led away from camp and towards the elven town of Chret. There was a reckoning due.
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	"Steel City Stalwarts, unite!" Comet Lad flew in and landed on Sergeant Static's right side. Nightshade Assassin swung down on one of her vines. Silver Cypher's armor hissed and clicked as the cooling systems compensated for the afterburners he'd used to get here. The Gray Gorrilla took the rear, his massive body throwing a shade over all of them. The team all looked ready to take on the entire force of Eric Nasty's henchman, collectively and individually. Except for one. Coming standing behind one of the Gorrilla's legs was Tigerlily, her uniform barely dusty from the fighting. She looked, as she always did, just a little like she was about to run. The Sergeant didn't seem to notice her fear. His eyes were on the tactical situation as his mind ran through strategies at lightning speed. He said, "There's no way we can find the Mayor in time as a group. We need to split up. Gray G, you clear this floor and start working up. Nightshade, you and me work our way down to the parking garage. Comet, start on the roof and meet Gray G in the middle. Cypher, hack into their cameras and find the mayor and find that bomb!" As their leader lifted Static Staff to give the call to action, Tigerlily said, "What do you need me to do boss?" Sergeant turned around and said, "Just stay here. Hold up in the courtroom over there. We'll bring the wounded to you. Heal them, then get them out. Can you handle that." The tiny lass said, "Yes sir! I won't let you down!" Sergeant Static reached out and ruffled her hair affectionately. "That's my girl. Everyone, to the rescue!" They all shouted in unison, "To the rescue!" They flew away. The Sergeant looked over his shoulder and made sure that Tigerlily made it to the courtroom where she'd wait. When they got to the door to the stairs, Nightshade Princess said, "You have to stop treating her like a kid. She's one of us. She's a superhero." Sergeant said, "She's a kid who can heal people. I'm tired of sending kids into battle, Shade." The princess of poisonous plants rolled her eyes, which contrasted with the proud smile. In the courtroom, though, Tigerlily was not smiling. Eric Nasty and fifteen of his Nastymen were standing, their weapons drawn. Eric stood over the bomb, his hands on the panel to enter the password, the last step to arming it. When he saw the white-clad healer, he drew his pistol and pointed at her. "Look what we got here! The mascot!" Tigerlily said, "You'll never defeat the Stalwarts! Just give up!" Eric stood, laughing. "Will I? And how will they defeat me, brat, without their powers?" She shook her head. "What?" Eric pointed to the bomb. "You super dummy's are all the same. I don't just mean that sickening sense of self righteousness. I mean that I figured it out. Every superhero, every one I could get a DNA sample for, you all derive your power from the same source. Would you like to know what it is? Get ready... it's aliens." The girl balled up her fists, "You're crazy." "No, I'm brilliant. I may not fly or shoot lightning or juggle sedans, but I have a power. I've got a mind sharp enough to split atoms. I also have money and I paid a lot for the remains of a very special ship recently brought up from the ocean. Atlantis was real! Aliens are real! The great pulse that turned people into superfreaks came from their technology. In a few minutes, I'm going to demosntrate all that, and unless you're wearing a countermeasure charm, like I am, say goodbye to your abilities and hello to the reign of Nasty!" Eric cackled. His men laughed and raised their blasters. And then one exploded. The room went dead. Tigerlily wasn't by the door anymore. She was standing within arms reach of where the ex-Nastyman had stood, his body now a spray of red chunks and foul smells. Eric said, "What the...?" Tigerlilly's body moved so fast that all you could see was a white blur. Her hands fell on two more. They detonated, the same way that their teammate had. She said, "No." Eric screamed, "Fire!" Tigerlily jumped as numerous bolts of light scorched the floor. She landed on the shoulders of another Nastyman. She twisted his head in a circle. Before he could fall, she leapt to another; his comrades cut him down trying to shoot her, along with the two on either side of him. Eric stopped firing. He dove for the bomb. Tigerlilly did a backflip and landed on ballet point on the top of another henchman's head. He splattered downward, his splattering like it had been dropped from the 50th floor. Tigerlilly's eyes were glass marbles, her mouth a small and straight line. She glided from soldier to soldier, each one either being ended with a quick and efficent blow or turned to vapor. Eric tapped out the password, but nerves and shaking fingers got him a "DENIED" on the screen. He tried it again. Same result. He tried to ignore the screams of his personal guard as they died all around him. "C'mon, c'mon... oh, crap that's the wrong password." He started to type in the right one, but he found he did not have a hand. He stared at the stump, weaping blood, and screamed. He looked up and saw tigerlilly, holding his hand like it was attached to an invisible crossing guard. "You don't get to speak about Atlantis," she said. "They were kind people, before the earthquake. They showed my people the first kindness we'd seen in a thousand worlds. That is, except for one. He was like you." Tigerlilly dropped the hand. Behind her, Eric could see a few corpses, but mostly he saw human sized stains. Somehow, the girl's clothes were still pristine. "He built weapons. We shared our tech at first. But then we saw what your kind might do with with it. We saw the darkness in your hearts, only too late. It sank the greatest city in your short history into the ocean. Your kind and my kind were both lost, save for a very few. We made a promise that day, one you're trying to undo." "Get away from me!" Eric shouted, trying to tie his belt around his arm stump. "For ten thousand years, I've given powers to your people. Manipulating your flesh is so easy. Eric stammered, "You... you what? But I-" "So many use them well. A few, not so much. Either way, it keeps you fighting amongst yourselves. The few of great power in an internal struggle while the rest of the world is content to wait and see what you do. "I will not see you reveal us. I will not see you try to undo ten millenia of guidance and nurturing. You, Eric, are the worst of your kind. While I will do anything it takes to see that your infant race not only remaisn thinking you're the greatest, fiercest, most dangerous creatures in the universe, but that you never advance so far that find out what really holds that title. Lucky for you that it was us, their little cousins that found you. "Now die." The doors burst open. The Sergeant and Nightshade were first. Silver Cypher flew in and said, "I knew it! This room was the only one with the cameras blocked out it had to be here!" The Sargeant yelled, "Where's Tigerlily?" A small voice said, "Here." They all turned and found her hugging her knees on the floor. Nightshade dashed, wrapping her leafy arms around the girl like a mother. "Oh T.L., did they hurt you?" The girl shook her head. "I found them like this. I think the bomb backfired." Sargeant Static said, "We should have found it faster." Cypher said, "It's okay. We all missed it." The Sargeant looked around the room. "Doesn't matter now. Let's get Tigerlilly and ourselves the hell out of here." Nightshade covered the girl's ears. "Language!" Tigerlilly giggled. "It's okay, Shade. I'm a big girl. I can take it."	Abe came to slowly. Already losing his edge - in the old days it would have taken a lot more than a steel-toed boot in the darkness to send him senseless. But that didn't explain the feeling in his chest. Rolling his eyes, he glanced down. Fuck. A knife. Buried in his chest, where his heart should be. Everyone knows Zemuul's heart is on his right-side, he thought, before reminding himself that he hadn't been called Zemuul for at least a decade. And what had happened to the people who had used the name. He shook himself from his reverie. Karel. The name came unbidden to his mind. Praying with her each morning, greeting the sun while her holy symbol glistened in the morning light, had summoned a feeling within him he had never known and had curbed the darkness within him. He felt the stirrings of something she told him was a conscience. And it had been working. Where was she? His eyes focused slowly on his surroundings. Most of his party was dead. Markus, head caved in with the ridiculous horned helmet of his laying just next to him. Heim had 3 arrows lodged in his back as he had been crawling for his pack for his weapon. Rykus had put up a fight, at least - no surprise, the wizard had always seemed like the type to go down swinging and he had been on watch. The frail man was surrounded by three statues - elves it appeared - and two bodies burned far beyond recognition. That had been what woken him, the screams of the burning (or of the wizard screaming his chants, either way). But Karel was gone. Safe. Then he saw her. Eyes wide. Staring at him, he imagined, but even in death they weren't accusatory. It had been Karel who had convinced the group that he was redeemable. That he could be a worthy ally in their crusade against the encroaching darkness. Her black hair frame a face that almost looked asleep, if it weren't for the vacant stare. And the red lines criss-crossing her linen garments. Always told her she couldn't rely on her god, he thought, Gods always let you own in the end. So why the attack? The prisoner. Abe realized then that their bounty was gone. The Lektrik's Guild deserter. His spot around the fire was empty, pack gone. His binding remained. Abe had tied them himself and took a grim sense of satisfaction at the sight that they had been sliced and not untied, at least. Abe grunted as he pulled the arrow from his chest slowly. It hurt, as he deserved. He was alive because of a fluke. Karel was dead. Who would greet the sun with him? Was it even worth greeting? He crawled over to her. The fingers of one of her hands were curled tightly around her holy symbol, a copper and gold sunburst. But the other hand clutched the rough, ugly bear Abe had whittled for her from ironwood. His vision dimmed. Abe stood slowly. The team had been efficient and swift. They hadn't looted anyone. A quick job, in and out with the bounty. That was their mistake. Abe coughed and spat a mouthful of blood before reaching down beneath his bedroll and pulling his twin kukris from their resting place. He had promised Karel to stop wearing them and he would honor that promise one day, but today was not that day. He looked closely at one of the statues surrounding Rykus. The elf was frozen in time, a look of surprise on his face as he was captured mid-swing. Abe noted the details - the two earrings in the left ear, the wickedly curved dagger - and knew his destination. A part of him, the part that Karel had called his conscience, felt bad for what was about to happen to the people who had done this. Abe shook his head. This was no time for cold feet. He shook his head and looked back at her body, apologizing in advance. Zemuul turned and followed the tracks that led away from camp and towards the elven town of Chret. There was a reckoning due.
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	I am a necromancer. My party knows this. Skorndrick Gristle, the Lost, at your service. In fact, the way I've worked myself out, my spells and my fighting capabilities, I'm probably the strongest member of our party. Do any of them suspect this? No. As far as they're concerned, I'm a good person who just.... helps the dead ease into the afterlife. And if that means telling them the dead wish to help, then that's what I've done. They've even got a joke excuse for me and my enchanted shovel- it's for digging "trenches". One time I bullshitted some suspicious librarians that didn't want to loan me a necromancy book with "The dead know the truth. There is meaning behind their existence. We all die, it doesn't have to be a bad thing. They need help, and I'm here for them." Another time I told a guard I was resurrecting a dead man because he'd requested being allowed to help protect the town he'd so loved in life. That was a lie, as well. And my party believed me. Of course they did. Naturally they've had their suspicions, of course. They've even been suspicious of our Oathbreaker Paladin, but he's a paladin so he can't be that suspicious. And to help that, I've always been cautious around them. Always. I've never had a reason to make them question me, more or less. Doing bad things for the right reasons is still doing something with good intentions for the benefit of more than just yourself. I've always told myself they didn't need to see the side of me that was kicked out of the dwarven cities for my actions, that they didn't deserve to experience what those who knew me back at home did. Until now. Until that awful man took them and threatened them and hurt them and hid them away. I wasn't there with them when they need me to be. I was away, teasing bones out of the teeth of the dragon I had raised from the grave with the Oathbreaker. Each time Heskan, my dragon, consumes a living being, he becomes a little more alive, a little less skeletal, flesh and sinew regenerating into place from rotting tendrils of death magic I amplified with the Oathbreaker to bring back. We'd been recovering in the privacy of a forest grove outside of the city when it happened, and I didn't find out until the next day. I always sleep with Heskan- his ribcage has hammocks of burlap for our stuff, and it's free real estate, so why not? Some of our party jokes he's the "Bone Bus", and I'll be the first to admit that's what he's mostly for. But now that man- the general of this shit kingdom's tiny, half-assed army- has my friends. He's locked them up, lied and said they were invaders or demons or spies or whatever nonsense befit each of them in his mind. All so he could power trip over visitors. And I will not permit that. Heskan and I are outside of a three hundred year old graveyard that's housed every dead member of this city since its founding, all closely buried together to save space. That's quite a bit of fodder for me to abuse, and Heskan agrees. It won't take me long, most of the night maybe, but missing a night's worth of sleep in exchange for an undying army is well worth the cost to save my party. They're good people. And they deserve me.	Abe came to slowly. Already losing his edge - in the old days it would have taken a lot more than a steel-toed boot in the darkness to send him senseless. But that didn't explain the feeling in his chest. Rolling his eyes, he glanced down. Fuck. A knife. Buried in his chest, where his heart should be. Everyone knows Zemuul's heart is on his right-side, he thought, before reminding himself that he hadn't been called Zemuul for at least a decade. And what had happened to the people who had used the name. He shook himself from his reverie. Karel. The name came unbidden to his mind. Praying with her each morning, greeting the sun while her holy symbol glistened in the morning light, had summoned a feeling within him he had never known and had curbed the darkness within him. He felt the stirrings of something she told him was a conscience. And it had been working. Where was she? His eyes focused slowly on his surroundings. Most of his party was dead. Markus, head caved in with the ridiculous horned helmet of his laying just next to him. Heim had 3 arrows lodged in his back as he had been crawling for his pack for his weapon. Rykus had put up a fight, at least - no surprise, the wizard had always seemed like the type to go down swinging and he had been on watch. The frail man was surrounded by three statues - elves it appeared - and two bodies burned far beyond recognition. That had been what woken him, the screams of the burning (or of the wizard screaming his chants, either way). But Karel was gone. Safe. Then he saw her. Eyes wide. Staring at him, he imagined, but even in death they weren't accusatory. It had been Karel who had convinced the group that he was redeemable. That he could be a worthy ally in their crusade against the encroaching darkness. Her black hair frame a face that almost looked asleep, if it weren't for the vacant stare. And the red lines criss-crossing her linen garments. Always told her she couldn't rely on her god, he thought, Gods always let you own in the end. So why the attack? The prisoner. Abe realized then that their bounty was gone. The Lektrik's Guild deserter. His spot around the fire was empty, pack gone. His binding remained. Abe had tied them himself and took a grim sense of satisfaction at the sight that they had been sliced and not untied, at least. Abe grunted as he pulled the arrow from his chest slowly. It hurt, as he deserved. He was alive because of a fluke. Karel was dead. Who would greet the sun with him? Was it even worth greeting? He crawled over to her. The fingers of one of her hands were curled tightly around her holy symbol, a copper and gold sunburst. But the other hand clutched the rough, ugly bear Abe had whittled for her from ironwood. His vision dimmed. Abe stood slowly. The team had been efficient and swift. They hadn't looted anyone. A quick job, in and out with the bounty. That was their mistake. Abe coughed and spat a mouthful of blood before reaching down beneath his bedroll and pulling his twin kukris from their resting place. He had promised Karel to stop wearing them and he would honor that promise one day, but today was not that day. He looked closely at one of the statues surrounding Rykus. The elf was frozen in time, a look of surprise on his face as he was captured mid-swing. Abe noted the details - the two earrings in the left ear, the wickedly curved dagger - and knew his destination. A part of him, the part that Karel had called his conscience, felt bad for what was about to happen to the people who had done this. Abe shook his head. This was no time for cold feet. He shook his head and looked back at her body, apologizing in advance. Zemuul turned and followed the tracks that led away from camp and towards the elven town of Chret. There was a reckoning due.
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	They were good people. That’s always what you heard whenever you went tavern diving or strayed around markets. But, of course, it would always be followed by “but that shady one makes me feel uneasy.” You were that shady one, but you couldn’t really fault them, or get angry. On the whole ‘light-side crusade’ that was their party, anyone who wasn’t lawful good or lawful neutral would automatically be the dark one. And you were fine with that. They were strong, supportive, and slowly, you started to see some of the lighter things in life. Perhaps good things could happen to good people at times. You were out in a local dive when the attack occured. You were half-listening to a sad drunk’s tale while sipping your own drink, completely unaware that your party was being attacked at that very moment. After making some new contacts you returned to the small encampment your party had set up, but instead to a quiet night broken only by whichever poor sap had drawn the night shift, you returned to a half-destroyed battlefield with no signs of life. Of course, there were small clues that his party had been fighting. Deep gouges in the earth, the occasional missed arrow, or even small splatters of blood. But no bodies. No tracks leading to wherever their unconscious bodies had been carried off to. You completely dug up that camp, almost maddened in your search for any trace, any lead, but you failed. It was as if they had disappeared in the midst of fighting, as if they had been carried away to some strange other world. That meant magic. You hated magic. Nothing good came out of magic, especially for someone such as you. Truth compulsions, magical tracking, all had screwed you over at some time or the other. Technically, healing was classified as Divine Magic so your whole hatred was justified, but you knew how close to hypocrisy you came. Still, you weren’t unwelcome to the occasional haste buff or piercing enchantment your magically-inclined allies casted upon you during combat, so you tolerated it. However, occasionally magic was used to complete feats of complete bullshit, such as teleporting an entire party from an area while leaving no traces. You reaffirmed that they were just waiting for you to find them. They were not dead. In order to find them, however, you were going to have to go through drastic measures. Thus, you found yourself outside a church. You didn’t know what distinguished churches from temples or chapels, but all you knew was that this place of worship was willing to perform certain rituals for certain fees. You didn’t really care about all the people you had to rob, steal from, or con in order to pay the price necessary. What? It’s not like you would pay for this using your own money. The source of your money aside, you felt trepidation as you approached the church’s doors. It had been years-no decades since you had been in one. That.. that was when you were younger. When the world was a little brighter. Even with proof of gods and higher beings you still felt skepticism when faced with religion. Though today, you would have to renounce all that. There was a nun waiting by the door for any travellers, and you could tell from the way her arms tensed that she expected you to start some sort of trouble. Inwardly, you scoffed. Of course even here there was bigotry and assumptions. Though you had never directly clashed with your party’s paladin, there was always something in her gaze that made you feel.. unclean. Apparently this was where she got it from. You were about to explain what your purpose was, but the nun raised a hand to quiet you. “We already know why you have come here. Our God sent us a vision explaining your plight. We are willing to assist you in this noble and good endeavour, provided, of course, you find some way to.. dispose of your ill-begotten gains.” At your confused expression, the nun simply motioned to the side, where a box labeled “DONATIONS” was waiting. Of course. The tracking ritual was.. disconcerting. It had required you to divulge.. personal details about yourself to the nuns in the room and the deity, and you weren’t exactly sure how to feel about that. Maybe it was the knowing look the nun gave you, or perhaps it was the Otherness of the ritual, but you felt ill at ease with yourself. But you forced the feeling down. The ritual was successful, and you had managed to find the place the ritual had described. Thankfully, it was only a fortress. If it had been another monastery you might have left your party altogether. You quickly infiltrated the fortress, and slowly started to move towards your party while disguised as a maid. Nobody questioned your movements, too afraid that you were on an important someone’s bidding, so you quickly found your way into the heart of the fortress. Finally, you found your way to your party. A smile threatened to break on your face, but you forced it down. It would completely destroy your respect amongst your group! You quickly slaughtered the feeble guardsmen, and then walked into the prisoners’ room. There, slightly hurt but not dead, was your party. You could see the surprise in their eyes when they saw you, but they were silent. Finally, the white mage asked, “So, uh, is the maid thing permanent?” There were a small round of snickers, and you felt the inexplicable urge to leave them all there. Then again, you had gone through all this trouble. You reach down unlock their chains with the keys you had pilfered from the guards outside, and as you’re leaning down over the paladin, she asks, “Was it hard to find us?” You considered telling the truth, telling them about your visit to the church and how they had thought you were on some ‘noble’ quest to save them. But then you simply said “It was only a fortress.” and left it at that. The paladin’s truth-sight wasn’t fooled, but she was gracious enough that she didn’t call you out when the rest of the party started to laugh. You unlocked the your last party member, a shifty spellsword that you could swear had been a thief once, and look back to the assembled party. This time, you allowed the smile to show on your face. Though what you planned went directly against what some of their alignments might stand for, you had the feeling that they would be all to happy to play along. “Let’s slaughter our way out of here.”	Faith. Naïveté. Hope. Fools. The lot of them. I couldn’t stand it. Walking around with their heads held high. They truly believed they were heroes. Human. Strong. Such disgust I felt. I’d have killed them myself if they’d chosen to question me. God knows my blade’s desire. Heh. Why do I care what God knows if He never does anything anyways. So much noise. Everything around in such chaotic symphony. They dabble in death and treachery, throwing life to the wind. How do they live with themselves. They could never save this world. They cheer having pulled a handful of souls back into this wretched place. They leave behind graves deeper than the seas of Sahara. They have no claim to heroism. Humanity. Death is release. Death is silence. Silence is good. Ah. They’ve met their end. They sing no longer. I am alone once more. The cup rests in solitude. Silence. False. I am alone. I alone am alone. Heh. Have I lost having gained? I cannot serve this momentary whim. Life is pain. Pain, they deserve. I will give them life. If only to pain. I didn’t hate them. There were others. Others dealt in torment. I gave them an equal share. Before silence. Foolish thoughts. These ones may have been different. I am death. I claim all. I could do it. I could give them life. Humans. Death is kindness. I am not kind. I bring no feasts or song. I. Am. Regret. This time. I will choose. Death is too kind for them. Plague. Blood. They will learn. This time I have chosen. I will enjoy this. Perhaps so will they.
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	“I wouldn’t call myself an Evil person, just more of a compulsive liar.” That is what I always told them; I doubt they all got the double-entendre but my reluctance to admit my own faults certainly aided the party on many occasions. “The Party”, a moniker I always used with pleasure after explaining to Paladin Hines that a group only really became a party with the addition of a whore. He almost seemed to relish the opportunity to hold his temper in check, a self-flagellation that vindicated his own faith. If anything, it secured my position with the party, kept him from urging the others to push me out. To do so would be admitting I was getting the better of him. Instead we worked together in ways others could not. A lot of our line of work is getting the right information, not just cracking heads or rescuing damsels. Interrogation isn’t easy work when the prisoner knows you won’t do anything very rough to them. That is where I came in, the villain who might plausibly peel their fingernails off if the honorable paladin didn’t keep stopping me. I wasn’t really in any hurry to do something like that. Too much like work. But they didn’t know that and it worked a treat. But that wasn’t going to work now. I had smelled trouble and went to ground, cutting contact and avoiding everyone I knew for a few days. Those are the sort of instincts that keep someone alive in my line of business; if everything is fine you just pop back up after a couple days and nobody is the wiser. Cultivating a mysterious reputation is hardly the worst thing one can do, keep Hines wondering what I was up to. In this case it turned out to have been the right move. When I returned they were gone barely 12 hours. Of course I first assumed they had finally ditched me, saw through my façade and figured they should cut their losses while I was missing. That was perhaps the most terrifying thought; not that they had finally wised up, but that my instincts had been so far wrong. If I could miss this group planning a move like that then in any other case I would have ended up with a knife between my ribs. Might as well lay down and die right now. A little investigation proved I had not misjudged as their bar tab from the previous night was unpaid. Leaving me behind was plausible but welching on a debt wasn’t something Hines would even contemplate. Nobody had seen anything. That was a problem, a real problem. That many skilled warriors vanishing without a trace, without a commotion or clue was the work of professionals. The innkeeper didn’t understand, not seeing past the trivial sum he was owed, but my business was making people disappear. Give me a fat purse and plenty of time to build my team… and I still wouldn’t be sure of pulling such a thing off. Wouldn’t try either, who cares if there are some bloodstains or noise? The group you were after could fight a quarter of the town guard to a standstill anyway, if you could handle them you could handle any response from the law. Might even benefit by making a statement. So there was no motive, no method, and no clues, which in itself is a clue. It meant they knew what they were doing and that meant leaving nothing to chance, so I would start with the guard. Even if they were no real threat it wouldn’t be left to dumb luck if they wandered into the area when the plan took place, which implied someone was influenced. That person was going to be die in short order (nothing left to chance) so I would need to move quickly, getting to them first before their “accidental” death could be arranged. Luckily I could narrow down the search. Guardsmen with healthy family relationships were highest on the list, as threats against their lives were the best leverage to ensure compliance. Knowing that it had worked in the past meant that capturing their family and torturing them in front of the guard would certainly get the information I was after, but it also meant that there was no other option. Just grabbing the guard would likely mean they kept silent to protect their loved ones. Involving the family was necessary, and unless I somehow chose the right guard from the start it would mean torturing and disposing of several guards and their immediate family as quickly as possible. Once that many families started being killed off whoever was behind my party’s disappearance was bound to figure out what was happening, devoting more resources to the coverup. Best case scenario I found the right guard and got some other information to go on. Even in that case my opponents would be killing several guards off as well, because if somehow my interrogation hadn’t worked they would need to imply that I had not picked the right one. Considering it was already obvious someone was looking for them they would also need to expand their killings to leave some ambiguity as to which one had actually been influenced, to hopefully waste time and throw me off their trail. Once the serial killings became known the guard families would become harder to access, perhaps being moved into the garrison, so in short order there would be an absolute bloodbath taking place. But maybe I could use some of my experience to my advantage. If I was in their shoes and a clever assassin I might be a compulsive liar. Even my lies might be lies, and all those guards I killed weren’t my man at all. Innocent guards would react differently than the one who had been threatened, that one would probably try to rabbit immediately. To keep attention off of them he might even be allowed to flee long enough for me to catch up with them. In any case it was going to be a long few nights ahead of me.	Faith. Naïveté. Hope. Fools. The lot of them. I couldn’t stand it. Walking around with their heads held high. They truly believed they were heroes. Human. Strong. Such disgust I felt. I’d have killed them myself if they’d chosen to question me. God knows my blade’s desire. Heh. Why do I care what God knows if He never does anything anyways. So much noise. Everything around in such chaotic symphony. They dabble in death and treachery, throwing life to the wind. How do they live with themselves. They could never save this world. They cheer having pulled a handful of souls back into this wretched place. They leave behind graves deeper than the seas of Sahara. They have no claim to heroism. Humanity. Death is release. Death is silence. Silence is good. Ah. They’ve met their end. They sing no longer. I am alone once more. The cup rests in solitude. Silence. False. I am alone. I alone am alone. Heh. Have I lost having gained? I cannot serve this momentary whim. Life is pain. Pain, they deserve. I will give them life. If only to pain. I didn’t hate them. There were others. Others dealt in torment. I gave them an equal share. Before silence. Foolish thoughts. These ones may have been different. I am death. I claim all. I could do it. I could give them life. Humans. Death is kindness. I am not kind. I bring no feasts or song. I. Am. Regret. This time. I will choose. Death is too kind for them. Plague. Blood. They will learn. This time I have chosen. I will enjoy this. Perhaps so will they.
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	He took them. He took the only three people who were really willing to give me a chance. The only people who didn't abandon me after seeing me torture someone for information. They made me promise never to go that far again, and I agreed, because having them with me was worth it. He fucking took them, and he was going to suffer for it. I knew the location that he took them from. We were in an inn. we were going to fight them. It is time to get some fucking information. I walked down the stairs and looked around the room. The bartender was standing there looking tired, a party of adventurers were there drinking and having a "good time", and some towns people were still here. I started to channel. Suddenly dark magic swirled around me, like black serpents. I pointed at the guy I assumed was the adventurer's tank, and he fell to ash. Then I cleared my throat. "I am not here to fuck around. I need information and I will end anyone who doesn't-" "Holy SHIT! You killed Gheregg!" This was from some fool in full armor. He started to get up from his stool but I wasn't in the mood. I pointed at him and he started coughing up smoke. Soon he fell backwards off his stool. "I will repeat my self only one more time. I am not here to deal with your petty bullshit. I will kill everyone in this god damn room and resurrect you fuckers until I get the information I need. Now listen closely. Who. The fuck. Took my friends." The room fell silent and I put out a circle of truth big enough to surround the town. Suddenly a small child ran for the door. I made a lifting motion with my hands and summoned a demon from the ground. "Catch him and drag him back here." The creature that could be described as a traditional demon but with an octopus with 8 foot long testicles for a head charged after the child. "My first question is for you barkeep. Who came up those stairs while I was gone, and I expected names" She was as pale as a ghost and blubbering incoherently. I walked up to her and put my hand under her head. "I know you know something, and I need you to talk. Relax and tell the truth and you will walk out of here. Keep panicking and I may need to 'modify' you to make you more accommodating." "I... I. Um. I saw..." This wasn't going to work, she was clearly too terrified to speak. I took out my knife and rammed it into her heart. A terrified shriek came from the crowd. I then touched her corpse and she stood up. "Minion, I need to know who went up to those room while I was gone." "yes master. Gheregg and Steern went up, but I believe they went to their room. Those two would be the two who you killed earlier. The child that ran from here, Rikkard went there to clean the room. He was in the room for a while." She pointed to a priest and a mage. the priest was crying over the two corpses. "They went up as well. again their rooms are also up those stairs." At this point I heard screaming coming from the door. "No! Please let me go! Someone help me!" I walked over to the armored corpse and caste a reanimation spell on it. "Warrior, interrogate the child. See what he knows happened in the room. and find out where my party is." "Yes master." it said in a raspy voice, smoke still billowing out of its mouth. I turned back to the barkeep, "Go on.". "Yes, that was all who went up to the 2nd story." "And who in this town is affiliated with the mage Rrhekoette." "None openly. At least none who I know of. He is hated here, and causes much suffering." Screaming from the other room was growing louder. "I'll be right back." I walked into the room where the child was. When I walked in he was missing an eye and had the a dagger through his right foot. I walked up to the warrior and motioned for him to guard the front. "Listen boy, I can make this pain go away. I just need to know why you ran away." "I. I got scared sir. You killed those two men, and... and I thought... I thought I might be able to hide." "ah yes. I get that a lot. I know I look old, but I assure you, I can not be escaped. So tell me... Rikkard was it?" He looked at me startled. "Yes sir?" "Why were you in my room talking to my friends?" "I was tasked with changing the sheets." "And why did you take so long?" "They was talking to me." "And tell me, what did they have to say?" "They was trying to ask how I ended up working here." "I see, now this next part is very crucial Rikkard. I need you to give me a clue. Something that will direct me to where by friends were taken. If you can't do that then I fear your pain will become so much worse before it gets better. Tell me something I can use and your pain will end quickly." "When I left their room, I heard a crash and looked back in the room and they were gone. I found ash around the room. I had to clean it and that was what took me so long." The kid was a wreck by this point, and I knew he would never recover from this turmoil. So I held up my end of the bargain. "Behlzikin, end the child's suffering." The child couldn't even react before the demon sucked the child into it's mouth. I walked past the bar patrons and back up to the room. I sat down and started meditating. Soon I found what the child alerted me to. I felt the spell, a teleportation spell. I knew now how to track it and I set up my own spell to take me to where they were taken. I felt the spell activate and soon I was there. A prison cell with the only people is this terrible world I cared about. I could start acting how I they expected me to again. We were going to be OK.	Faith. Naïveté. Hope. Fools. The lot of them. I couldn’t stand it. Walking around with their heads held high. They truly believed they were heroes. Human. Strong. Such disgust I felt. I’d have killed them myself if they’d chosen to question me. God knows my blade’s desire. Heh. Why do I care what God knows if He never does anything anyways. So much noise. Everything around in such chaotic symphony. They dabble in death and treachery, throwing life to the wind. How do they live with themselves. They could never save this world. They cheer having pulled a handful of souls back into this wretched place. They leave behind graves deeper than the seas of Sahara. They have no claim to heroism. Humanity. Death is release. Death is silence. Silence is good. Ah. They’ve met their end. They sing no longer. I am alone once more. The cup rests in solitude. Silence. False. I am alone. I alone am alone. Heh. Have I lost having gained? I cannot serve this momentary whim. Life is pain. Pain, they deserve. I will give them life. If only to pain. I didn’t hate them. There were others. Others dealt in torment. I gave them an equal share. Before silence. Foolish thoughts. These ones may have been different. I am death. I claim all. I could do it. I could give them life. Humans. Death is kindness. I am not kind. I bring no feasts or song. I. Am. Regret. This time. I will choose. Death is too kind for them. Plague. Blood. They will learn. This time I have chosen. I will enjoy this. Perhaps so will they.
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	He was afraid, I could smell it on him. Who wouldn’t be. “You don’t know what you’re dooming me to.” He said pathetically, struggling with his bonds. I looked up from the dagger I was sharpening and smiled. “Yes I do.” That got a reaction out of him. A funny little squeal of fear. I nearly chuckled but kept my composure. “Why are you doing this?” He asked pleadingly. I rolled my eyes. “Why do you care? Will it hurt less if you know why I’m pulling your intestines out through your belly button? “Oh shit.” He spluttered, starting to sob now. I chuckled. Couldn’t help myself. Neither could he, judging by the dark stain growing on the front of his pants. I tossed the dagger up in the air and caught it by the hilt and stood up with a satisfied grunt. I went around, double checking that everything was in place. This was a tricky business, no take backs. But hey, l like playing for keeps. Without looking up from the circle of protection I said, “My friends, they’ve gone missing for a while now so I figure that they’ve gone and got themselves killed.” I stood and inspected the various runes carved into the ground, filled with goat’s blood. “They’re the good-guy types, always going around, trying to fix shit.” He let out a groan and I nodded appreciatively. “Heh, yeah, it can be pretty annoying at times.” I flipped through the book until I found the right summoning spells. “H-h-how do you know if this is even going to work? What if decides to drag you into the Pit as well?” He said, trying to reason his way out this one. I grinned. “You think this is my first time? What about me says ‘virginal’ to you? No, this isn’t the only time I’ve had to bring them back from the abyss because of some cockeyed good-guy bullshit that went badly.” I let out a short laugh, “One time I did this ritual when I thought they had got themselves killed by some very nasty Orc fellows but it turned out we just got separated. Hilarious. I would’ve told them but they wouldn’t have appreciated the humor.” “How could they be good if they cavort with the likes of you?” He spat venomously. This question took me aback and I paused for a moment, thinking it over. “Well, I don’t know if they’re actually good or not. They seem like good-guys to me but maybe my standard is a bit off from regulation. They don’t know about this though, or some of the other stuff I do. But I’m willing to do anything to pretty much anyone if it get’s me what I want. Maybe that makes me a bad guy.” The preparations were finished. I was ready to begin. I stood over him and raised the dagger above his chest. I looked down, directly in his eyes and smiled. “But who says the bad guy can’t have friends?” And in a swift motion, I brought the knife down.	Faith. Naïveté. Hope. Fools. The lot of them. I couldn’t stand it. Walking around with their heads held high. They truly believed they were heroes. Human. Strong. Such disgust I felt. I’d have killed them myself if they’d chosen to question me. God knows my blade’s desire. Heh. Why do I care what God knows if He never does anything anyways. So much noise. Everything around in such chaotic symphony. They dabble in death and treachery, throwing life to the wind. How do they live with themselves. They could never save this world. They cheer having pulled a handful of souls back into this wretched place. They leave behind graves deeper than the seas of Sahara. They have no claim to heroism. Humanity. Death is release. Death is silence. Silence is good. Ah. They’ve met their end. They sing no longer. I am alone once more. The cup rests in solitude. Silence. False. I am alone. I alone am alone. Heh. Have I lost having gained? I cannot serve this momentary whim. Life is pain. Pain, they deserve. I will give them life. If only to pain. I didn’t hate them. There were others. Others dealt in torment. I gave them an equal share. Before silence. Foolish thoughts. These ones may have been different. I am death. I claim all. I could do it. I could give them life. Humans. Death is kindness. I am not kind. I bring no feasts or song. I. Am. Regret. This time. I will choose. Death is too kind for them. Plague. Blood. They will learn. This time I have chosen. I will enjoy this. Perhaps so will they.
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	"You know, when they asked me to join them, they made me swear I had never broken any laws." I looked down at the half-elf staked spread eagle to the floor. "That was actually true. But they didn't think to ask if I had ever done anything, hmm. Morally questionable." I checked the ropes and my supplies. All was well, of course, but one never could be too careful. "They never asked me what it was I actually did in the king's service." The petty noble's eyes widened as he thrashed about in impotent rage. I stepped on his neck, just enough to remind him of his vulnerable position. He stopped struggling, but glared at me with hatred in his eyes. "I am now going to remove your gag, my friend. We are going to have a conversation. Well, in truth, I fear it will be a bit one sided. You will tell me all you know." I knelt down behind his head and removed the gag. He spat at me, but I had chosen my position carefully and was easily able to move out of the way. Long experience stood me in good stead. "Do you know who I am! How dare you lay your filthy hands on me. I will have you flogged! No, I will have you flayed! Suppressing the urge to roll my eyes was difficult. "And how, pray tell, do you plan on making that happen, Cirloc?" He fell silent, and I almost laughed at his expression. "Raising your voice is usually enough for you, isn't it?" He looked at me, bewildered and angry. He began screaming "Guards, guards! Help!" over and over again, until I put a foot in his ribs. "Please save your voice. I'm afraid you were unconscious longer than you think. If you had taken a moment to examine your surroundings, you would have perhaps noticed the fresh air. The deep woods at night are quite pleasant to the nose, I find. Much different than the stink of the city, is it not? Ah. I see the true nature of your situation is beginning to dawn on you. No one is coming for you. It is simply you," I said, tapping his forehead for emphasis, "and me." I stood up slowly, turning my back on him and gazing into the fire. "I want names, affiliations, relationships, locations, passwords, lock combinations. Their fucking shoe sizes." The venom in my voice took me by surprise. I took a deep breath. "You will tell me everything." "I'll tell you nothing! Flaying is too good for you! I'll have my servants tear" I raised a hand. "No doubt you were about to say something very creative, but time presses." My flat interruption shocked him into silence. "As for me, I prefer methods less theatrical. Tonight, for example, I have an iron bucket, a rope, and some rats." I nodded to the corner. "Shall we begin, then?" Some time later, as the echoes of his screams died with him, I doused the body and the cabin liberally with lantern oil, and as I exited into the cool night air, I capped the leather flask and tossed it into the fireplace. With practiced speed, I closed the door and walked up a nearby hill. I heard a muffled thump as the flask exploded, and as I gazed down into the rising blaze, I reflected back on my time with Cirloc. I had watched his eyes progress through each stage: Anger. Fear. Pain. Agony. Gibbering madness. And the look of acceptance, just before the end. Just like all the others. And now I had the information I needed. (Picture this performed by, say, Jeffrey Coombs. Let me know what you think.)	Faith. Naïveté. Hope. Fools. The lot of them. I couldn’t stand it. Walking around with their heads held high. They truly believed they were heroes. Human. Strong. Such disgust I felt. I’d have killed them myself if they’d chosen to question me. God knows my blade’s desire. Heh. Why do I care what God knows if He never does anything anyways. So much noise. Everything around in such chaotic symphony. They dabble in death and treachery, throwing life to the wind. How do they live with themselves. They could never save this world. They cheer having pulled a handful of souls back into this wretched place. They leave behind graves deeper than the seas of Sahara. They have no claim to heroism. Humanity. Death is release. Death is silence. Silence is good. Ah. They’ve met their end. They sing no longer. I am alone once more. The cup rests in solitude. Silence. False. I am alone. I alone am alone. Heh. Have I lost having gained? I cannot serve this momentary whim. Life is pain. Pain, they deserve. I will give them life. If only to pain. I didn’t hate them. There were others. Others dealt in torment. I gave them an equal share. Before silence. Foolish thoughts. These ones may have been different. I am death. I claim all. I could do it. I could give them life. Humans. Death is kindness. I am not kind. I bring no feasts or song. I. Am. Regret. This time. I will choose. Death is too kind for them. Plague. Blood. They will learn. This time I have chosen. I will enjoy this. Perhaps so will they.
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	In the muted light of the room, Lakme's 'Flower Duet' played. It almost made for a romantic atmosphere. Almost. "You see... Marcus... here's the thing. I'm not what you would call a good person." Marcus O'Reilly sneered up at me from the chair to which I'd tied him. When he came in the door to his palatial estate home, I'd surprised him from behind with chloroform and a rag. He struggled for a few seconds, but even a man of his size and physical fitness couldn't resist the sweet siren call of slumber under those circumstances. I'd handcuffed him to the chair, positioned him in the middle of his massive living room, and waited patiently for him to wake up. I'd already been waiting hours for him to come home, so a couple more wasn't a huge deal at this point. When he finally awoke, blinking away the confusion and disorientation, he didn't notice me at first in the muted light. But once he did, his attention snapped to me and he grinned his trademark sadistic grin. He told me I was a dead man, that I didn't even know it yet. Then he asked me just what the hell I was trying to pull off, that he had to know before I died, so he could satisfy his curiosity. I just sat there in my chair, staring at him, expressionless. What seemed like an eternity passed before he spoke again. "Well asshole? What's your game plan here? I gotta know. You better talk quick, my security will be doing their sweeps any minute now, and when they do, you're as good as dead." I blinked, then adopted a concerned expression. "Security?" "Jesus," he said smugly. "You didn't think I'd have security? Who do you think you're dealing with?" "Oh, I know you had security," I said, reaching out with one booted foot and tipping over the large Rubbermaid bin, spilling its contents over the polished hardwood floor. "I just don't think they're going to be much help, is all." Marcus blanched as he saw eight severed heads roll onto the living room floor, leaving a coagulated blood trail behind them. "Jeff put up the biggest fight, in case you were wondering. His widow should get some kind of bonus." O'Reilly's eyes slowly lifted from the decapitated heads up to meet my eyes. "You think someone won't notice there's a problem? You'll never make it out of here alive," he said, but with less bravado this time. "Someone will notice I'm missing, and they'll come to check what happened. You're as good as dead." "By the time they do," I replied flatly, "They'll find nothing but a charred skeleton of your former house. There will be nothing left for them to use to track me down. I've made sure of that." Marcus lost his cool then, and struggled violently against his handcuffs, trying to escape. In his attempts, he flopped over onto his side, knocking his head against the floor. He groaned as I moved over and lifted him back up into a sitting position. "Here's the thing, Marcus. As I mentioned, I'm not a good person. You ordered my friends captured. I want them back. So I'm going to make you a very simple deal, one that you won't want to refuse." "Fuck you," he sputtered hatefully. I walked to the wall, switching on the rest of the lights in the room for the first time. His eyes went as wide as dinner plates. "As you can see," I said coldly, "I also have your wife, two daughters and son here tonight." Behind me, the wife and children also struggled against their bonds, their muffled cries now barely audible over the classical music, which had now changed to Tchaikovsky's 'Slave March'. "I'm going to give you a choice, Marcus. You die tonight, regardless. I just can't leave you alive, it's simply too risky. But I will give you the opportunity to let your wife and kids live." I slowly walked over to them, and began caressing the hair of his wife as she frantically struggled. "You tell me where my friends are. If I find them alive and unharmed, I will release your wife and kids. They will not have to share your fate, burning and suffocating in a horrifying house fire 'accident'." I moved, now caressing his older daughter's head as she cried soundlessly. "If you refuse, I will burn this place to the ground and move on to your senior lieutenant next. I'm pretty sure he'll talk, but even if he doesn't... I have plenty of chances to get this information from someone under your employ, so don't think for one second that I'm bluffing. You aren't the only option available to me. You have no cards to play here." His eyes moved from his family to the disembodied heads of his trusted guards, then back to me. I saw the look of resignation on his face as he realized I was correct. "You promise you'll let them go?" he asked quietly. "You have my word," I replied. "They don't know who I am." "You know," Marcus said with sad amusement, "You would have made an excellent addition to my organization." I smiled, coldly. "You have no idea how right you are."	Faith. Naïveté. Hope. Fools. The lot of them. I couldn’t stand it. Walking around with their heads held high. They truly believed they were heroes. Human. Strong. Such disgust I felt. I’d have killed them myself if they’d chosen to question me. God knows my blade’s desire. Heh. Why do I care what God knows if He never does anything anyways. So much noise. Everything around in such chaotic symphony. They dabble in death and treachery, throwing life to the wind. How do they live with themselves. They could never save this world. They cheer having pulled a handful of souls back into this wretched place. They leave behind graves deeper than the seas of Sahara. They have no claim to heroism. Humanity. Death is release. Death is silence. Silence is good. Ah. They’ve met their end. They sing no longer. I am alone once more. The cup rests in solitude. Silence. False. I am alone. I alone am alone. Heh. Have I lost having gained? I cannot serve this momentary whim. Life is pain. Pain, they deserve. I will give them life. If only to pain. I didn’t hate them. There were others. Others dealt in torment. I gave them an equal share. Before silence. Foolish thoughts. These ones may have been different. I am death. I claim all. I could do it. I could give them life. Humans. Death is kindness. I am not kind. I bring no feasts or song. I. Am. Regret. This time. I will choose. Death is too kind for them. Plague. Blood. They will learn. This time I have chosen. I will enjoy this. Perhaps so will they.
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	On some level, I probably care about them. Gods, I need to stop. They don't matter to me. It doesn't matter who they are. They are objectively useful to me. They've helped me achieve my goals and that's all that matters. They're good fighters and I like to have them around in a pinch. These thoughts had been plagueing me for days. I know who I am. I'm a monster. I've killed bad men for crossing me, and better men for nothing. That is, until I started traveling with them. Târz was a decent orc. Big and brutish as he looked with his bare chest and double axes, he was actually a very thoughtful and intelligent creature. Funny. I guess my prejudices made me think he'd be a bit more like me when he recruited me to go with him and two other travelers to dispatch a gang of bandits. I figured it was just a good day's slaughter for a good days pay, but they actually cared enough to save the hostages and slaves. I'd never seen that before. It was Aelindriel who first mentioned saving them. Aelindriel? Aelindariel? Gods, I hate elvish names. Aelindel, that's it! Regardless, this elf actually went out of his way, damn near taking a bolt to the chest, just to save one slave. Wasn't a particularly useful maneuver. Could've gotten him killed, and it wasn't like the slave could fight. He was only a kid. I've still, to this very day, never seen someone take as many hits and keep getting up as he did that day. An axe wound to the shoulder didn't even stop him from carrying that kid back to the nearest town. Emotional, Elvish bastard. Probably wrote another one of his gods-damned poems about it. Still. I hope I get to hear one or two of them again. Well, I'd put up with hearing it if it meant I had his sword by my side. So I keep telling myself. I'm going to get them back. Whatever it takes. Gods damn that treacherous bastard. After a year of sticking around with these two and myself, the one human has to go and mess everything up. We'd traveled the plains of the west, the northern mountains where I grew up, and the lava fields to the south and shared many a feast over spoils from victory. I miss those times. It was just as profitable as being a bandit, and I never had to skip town over some band of "heroes" coming after me. Now look at me. My horse is, quite literally, covered in the blood of my enemies. I need to find a river or a lake or something. I can't let them zee me like this. Hell, I've got flesh in my teeth. They'd never let it fly that I tortured someone to find out where they were. On top of that, even I think that taking a chunk out of his calf might've been too far. There's no time for those thoughts now, though. I'll come to terms with who and what I am later. For now, I've got two heroes to save, a plot to expose, and a newly crowned prince to kill. Gods, I hope they never found out what I did to save them. I hope they never find out what I'm going to do. Edit: yo this is the first time I've gotten upvotes in this sub, I love you guys lmao	Faith. Naïveté. Hope. Fools. The lot of them. I couldn’t stand it. Walking around with their heads held high. They truly believed they were heroes. Human. Strong. Such disgust I felt. I’d have killed them myself if they’d chosen to question me. God knows my blade’s desire. Heh. Why do I care what God knows if He never does anything anyways. So much noise. Everything around in such chaotic symphony. They dabble in death and treachery, throwing life to the wind. How do they live with themselves. They could never save this world. They cheer having pulled a handful of souls back into this wretched place. They leave behind graves deeper than the seas of Sahara. They have no claim to heroism. Humanity. Death is release. Death is silence. Silence is good. Ah. They’ve met their end. They sing no longer. I am alone once more. The cup rests in solitude. Silence. False. I am alone. I alone am alone. Heh. Have I lost having gained? I cannot serve this momentary whim. Life is pain. Pain, they deserve. I will give them life. If only to pain. I didn’t hate them. There were others. Others dealt in torment. I gave them an equal share. Before silence. Foolish thoughts. These ones may have been different. I am death. I claim all. I could do it. I could give them life. Humans. Death is kindness. I am not kind. I bring no feasts or song. I. Am. Regret. This time. I will choose. Death is too kind for them. Plague. Blood. They will learn. This time I have chosen. I will enjoy this. Perhaps so will they.
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	"Steel City Stalwarts, unite!" Comet Lad flew in and landed on Sergeant Static's right side. Nightshade Assassin swung down on one of her vines. Silver Cypher's armor hissed and clicked as the cooling systems compensated for the afterburners he'd used to get here. The Gray Gorrilla took the rear, his massive body throwing a shade over all of them. The team all looked ready to take on the entire force of Eric Nasty's henchman, collectively and individually. Except for one. Coming standing behind one of the Gorrilla's legs was Tigerlily, her uniform barely dusty from the fighting. She looked, as she always did, just a little like she was about to run. The Sergeant didn't seem to notice her fear. His eyes were on the tactical situation as his mind ran through strategies at lightning speed. He said, "There's no way we can find the Mayor in time as a group. We need to split up. Gray G, you clear this floor and start working up. Nightshade, you and me work our way down to the parking garage. Comet, start on the roof and meet Gray G in the middle. Cypher, hack into their cameras and find the mayor and find that bomb!" As their leader lifted Static Staff to give the call to action, Tigerlily said, "What do you need me to do boss?" Sergeant turned around and said, "Just stay here. Hold up in the courtroom over there. We'll bring the wounded to you. Heal them, then get them out. Can you handle that." The tiny lass said, "Yes sir! I won't let you down!" Sergeant Static reached out and ruffled her hair affectionately. "That's my girl. Everyone, to the rescue!" They all shouted in unison, "To the rescue!" They flew away. The Sergeant looked over his shoulder and made sure that Tigerlily made it to the courtroom where she'd wait. When they got to the door to the stairs, Nightshade Princess said, "You have to stop treating her like a kid. She's one of us. She's a superhero." Sergeant said, "She's a kid who can heal people. I'm tired of sending kids into battle, Shade." The princess of poisonous plants rolled her eyes, which contrasted with the proud smile. In the courtroom, though, Tigerlily was not smiling. Eric Nasty and fifteen of his Nastymen were standing, their weapons drawn. Eric stood over the bomb, his hands on the panel to enter the password, the last step to arming it. When he saw the white-clad healer, he drew his pistol and pointed at her. "Look what we got here! The mascot!" Tigerlily said, "You'll never defeat the Stalwarts! Just give up!" Eric stood, laughing. "Will I? And how will they defeat me, brat, without their powers?" She shook her head. "What?" Eric pointed to the bomb. "You super dummy's are all the same. I don't just mean that sickening sense of self righteousness. I mean that I figured it out. Every superhero, every one I could get a DNA sample for, you all derive your power from the same source. Would you like to know what it is? Get ready... it's aliens." The girl balled up her fists, "You're crazy." "No, I'm brilliant. I may not fly or shoot lightning or juggle sedans, but I have a power. I've got a mind sharp enough to split atoms. I also have money and I paid a lot for the remains of a very special ship recently brought up from the ocean. Atlantis was real! Aliens are real! The great pulse that turned people into superfreaks came from their technology. In a few minutes, I'm going to demosntrate all that, and unless you're wearing a countermeasure charm, like I am, say goodbye to your abilities and hello to the reign of Nasty!" Eric cackled. His men laughed and raised their blasters. And then one exploded. The room went dead. Tigerlily wasn't by the door anymore. She was standing within arms reach of where the ex-Nastyman had stood, his body now a spray of red chunks and foul smells. Eric said, "What the...?" Tigerlilly's body moved so fast that all you could see was a white blur. Her hands fell on two more. They detonated, the same way that their teammate had. She said, "No." Eric screamed, "Fire!" Tigerlily jumped as numerous bolts of light scorched the floor. She landed on the shoulders of another Nastyman. She twisted his head in a circle. Before he could fall, she leapt to another; his comrades cut him down trying to shoot her, along with the two on either side of him. Eric stopped firing. He dove for the bomb. Tigerlilly did a backflip and landed on ballet point on the top of another henchman's head. He splattered downward, his splattering like it had been dropped from the 50th floor. Tigerlilly's eyes were glass marbles, her mouth a small and straight line. She glided from soldier to soldier, each one either being ended with a quick and efficent blow or turned to vapor. Eric tapped out the password, but nerves and shaking fingers got him a "DENIED" on the screen. He tried it again. Same result. He tried to ignore the screams of his personal guard as they died all around him. "C'mon, c'mon... oh, crap that's the wrong password." He started to type in the right one, but he found he did not have a hand. He stared at the stump, weaping blood, and screamed. He looked up and saw tigerlilly, holding his hand like it was attached to an invisible crossing guard. "You don't get to speak about Atlantis," she said. "They were kind people, before the earthquake. They showed my people the first kindness we'd seen in a thousand worlds. That is, except for one. He was like you." Tigerlilly dropped the hand. Behind her, Eric could see a few corpses, but mostly he saw human sized stains. Somehow, the girl's clothes were still pristine. "He built weapons. We shared our tech at first. But then we saw what your kind might do with with it. We saw the darkness in your hearts, only too late. It sank the greatest city in your short history into the ocean. Your kind and my kind were both lost, save for a very few. We made a promise that day, one you're trying to undo." "Get away from me!" Eric shouted, trying to tie his belt around his arm stump. "For ten thousand years, I've given powers to your people. Manipulating your flesh is so easy. Eric stammered, "You... you what? But I-" "So many use them well. A few, not so much. Either way, it keeps you fighting amongst yourselves. The few of great power in an internal struggle while the rest of the world is content to wait and see what you do. "I will not see you reveal us. I will not see you try to undo ten millenia of guidance and nurturing. You, Eric, are the worst of your kind. While I will do anything it takes to see that your infant race not only remaisn thinking you're the greatest, fiercest, most dangerous creatures in the universe, but that you never advance so far that find out what really holds that title. Lucky for you that it was us, their little cousins that found you. "Now die." The doors burst open. The Sergeant and Nightshade were first. Silver Cypher flew in and said, "I knew it! This room was the only one with the cameras blocked out it had to be here!" The Sargeant yelled, "Where's Tigerlily?" A small voice said, "Here." They all turned and found her hugging her knees on the floor. Nightshade dashed, wrapping her leafy arms around the girl like a mother. "Oh T.L., did they hurt you?" The girl shook her head. "I found them like this. I think the bomb backfired." Sargeant Static said, "We should have found it faster." Cypher said, "It's okay. We all missed it." The Sargeant looked around the room. "Doesn't matter now. Let's get Tigerlilly and ourselves the hell out of here." Nightshade covered the girl's ears. "Language!" Tigerlilly giggled. "It's okay, Shade. I'm a big girl. I can take it."	Faith. Naïveté. Hope. Fools. The lot of them. I couldn’t stand it. Walking around with their heads held high. They truly believed they were heroes. Human. Strong. Such disgust I felt. I’d have killed them myself if they’d chosen to question me. God knows my blade’s desire. Heh. Why do I care what God knows if He never does anything anyways. So much noise. Everything around in such chaotic symphony. They dabble in death and treachery, throwing life to the wind. How do they live with themselves. They could never save this world. They cheer having pulled a handful of souls back into this wretched place. They leave behind graves deeper than the seas of Sahara. They have no claim to heroism. Humanity. Death is release. Death is silence. Silence is good. Ah. They’ve met their end. They sing no longer. I am alone once more. The cup rests in solitude. Silence. False. I am alone. I alone am alone. Heh. Have I lost having gained? I cannot serve this momentary whim. Life is pain. Pain, they deserve. I will give them life. If only to pain. I didn’t hate them. There were others. Others dealt in torment. I gave them an equal share. Before silence. Foolish thoughts. These ones may have been different. I am death. I claim all. I could do it. I could give them life. Humans. Death is kindness. I am not kind. I bring no feasts or song. I. Am. Regret. This time. I will choose. Death is too kind for them. Plague. Blood. They will learn. This time I have chosen. I will enjoy this. Perhaps so will they.
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	He took them. He took the only three people who were really willing to give me a chance. The only people who didn't abandon me after seeing me torture someone for information. They made me promise never to go that far again, and I agreed, because having them with me was worth it. He fucking took them, and he was going to suffer for it. I knew the location that he took them from. We were in an inn. we were going to fight them. It is time to get some fucking information. I walked down the stairs and looked around the room. The bartender was standing there looking tired, a party of adventurers were there drinking and having a "good time", and some towns people were still here. I started to channel. Suddenly dark magic swirled around me, like black serpents. I pointed at the guy I assumed was the adventurer's tank, and he fell to ash. Then I cleared my throat. "I am not here to fuck around. I need information and I will end anyone who doesn't-" "Holy SHIT! You killed Gheregg!" This was from some fool in full armor. He started to get up from his stool but I wasn't in the mood. I pointed at him and he started coughing up smoke. Soon he fell backwards off his stool. "I will repeat my self only one more time. I am not here to deal with your petty bullshit. I will kill everyone in this god damn room and resurrect you fuckers until I get the information I need. Now listen closely. Who. The fuck. Took my friends." The room fell silent and I put out a circle of truth big enough to surround the town. Suddenly a small child ran for the door. I made a lifting motion with my hands and summoned a demon from the ground. "Catch him and drag him back here." The creature that could be described as a traditional demon but with an octopus with 8 foot long testicles for a head charged after the child. "My first question is for you barkeep. Who came up those stairs while I was gone, and I expected names" She was as pale as a ghost and blubbering incoherently. I walked up to her and put my hand under her head. "I know you know something, and I need you to talk. Relax and tell the truth and you will walk out of here. Keep panicking and I may need to 'modify' you to make you more accommodating." "I... I. Um. I saw..." This wasn't going to work, she was clearly too terrified to speak. I took out my knife and rammed it into her heart. A terrified shriek came from the crowd. I then touched her corpse and she stood up. "Minion, I need to know who went up to those room while I was gone." "yes master. Gheregg and Steern went up, but I believe they went to their room. Those two would be the two who you killed earlier. The child that ran from here, Rikkard went there to clean the room. He was in the room for a while." She pointed to a priest and a mage. the priest was crying over the two corpses. "They went up as well. again their rooms are also up those stairs." At this point I heard screaming coming from the door. "No! Please let me go! Someone help me!" I walked over to the armored corpse and caste a reanimation spell on it. "Warrior, interrogate the child. See what he knows happened in the room. and find out where my party is." "Yes master." it said in a raspy voice, smoke still billowing out of its mouth. I turned back to the barkeep, "Go on.". "Yes, that was all who went up to the 2nd story." "And who in this town is affiliated with the mage Rrhekoette." "None openly. At least none who I know of. He is hated here, and causes much suffering." Screaming from the other room was growing louder. "I'll be right back." I walked into the room where the child was. When I walked in he was missing an eye and had the a dagger through his right foot. I walked up to the warrior and motioned for him to guard the front. "Listen boy, I can make this pain go away. I just need to know why you ran away." "I. I got scared sir. You killed those two men, and... and I thought... I thought I might be able to hide." "ah yes. I get that a lot. I know I look old, but I assure you, I can not be escaped. So tell me... Rikkard was it?" He looked at me startled. "Yes sir?" "Why were you in my room talking to my friends?" "I was tasked with changing the sheets." "And why did you take so long?" "They was talking to me." "And tell me, what did they have to say?" "They was trying to ask how I ended up working here." "I see, now this next part is very crucial Rikkard. I need you to give me a clue. Something that will direct me to where by friends were taken. If you can't do that then I fear your pain will become so much worse before it gets better. Tell me something I can use and your pain will end quickly." "When I left their room, I heard a crash and looked back in the room and they were gone. I found ash around the room. I had to clean it and that was what took me so long." The kid was a wreck by this point, and I knew he would never recover from this turmoil. So I held up my end of the bargain. "Behlzikin, end the child's suffering." The child couldn't even react before the demon sucked the child into it's mouth. I walked past the bar patrons and back up to the room. I sat down and started meditating. Soon I found what the child alerted me to. I felt the spell, a teleportation spell. I knew now how to track it and I set up my own spell to take me to where they were taken. I felt the spell activate and soon I was there. A prison cell with the only people is this terrible world I cared about. I could start acting how I they expected me to again. We were going to be OK.	Fuck the snow. Freshly fallen snow carpeted the entire town, the muddy road, the burned out storefronts it wound around, I could even see where it had begun to pile into a townhouse whose roof had given way to a shelling months prior. The only sounds I could hear were the crunching of snow with every next step, and the faint but persistent howling of wind in this wretched relic of brighter times. Alone. Three weeks ago, it had all seemed so much simpler. Push east, liberate our people, put down the bloodthirsty mob that sought to destroy our traditions, our faith and our home. That's exactly what was in my mind when I was sitting in the back of that truck as it bounced across another nameless road, if it could be called such. I couldn't speak to how the others felt, one was smoking a cigarette, one read from a small book he kept in his pocket, another fidgeted with his helmet for the third time since our redeployment. I don't know which one helped the most when a HE round tore through the front of the truck, but I do know being the last person to get on the truck hadn't hurt. As I'd crawled my way from the wreckage, I couldn't hear, smoke burned my nose. I thought it'd only be moments before I'd find a bullet passing through the back of my skull, but if I managed to make my escape, I would personally find every person behind that gun and skin them alive. Instead, I collapsed. I'd awoken in a storm cellar, to a little less than a dozen men and women talking under a single bare bulb. From my cot, I could see that very little of their clothing matched, some was ours, some was theirs, some was native. What they did have in common was bodies that seemed unnaturally thin, and their eyes had the bruised circles of many days without rest. I had been bound, but bandaged, and apparently tossed in a corner while the group had decided what to do with me. Truth be told, I don't remember all their names, because I largely did not care. The only two I can remember are Lena and Dieter, the two of which were engaged in a heated argument on whether to follow the former's plan to interrogate and execute me, or the latter's suggestion of persuading me to shift my allegiances. Realizing the situation I was in, I first felt a wave of revulsion at the idea of betraying what I stood for, then an unclean sense of self-loathing as I quickly began to slander everything I'd sworn to uphold. I attempted to stand, but stumbled, still dizzy from the impact. At first, they were naturally distrustful, but I knew my only chance of survival was compliance: they plied me for information, I told, they asked how I'd come to service, I lied, they invited me to use my allegiance for their gain, I obliged. The next two weeks were spent lying, stealing and swindling for these people. I'd come to find that these people weren't on their side, but were a string of those people war lets slip through the cracks: partisans, deserters from either side, criminals, anyone who had nowhere else to go. They operated from a relatively intact barn at the edge of this forsaken town, and they survived by scrounging from the town, countryside and any troops that happened to be passing through. I never particularly learned to care for the deserters or partisans, they were traitors all in all, but I could learn to forgive them, and we grew into an uneasy peace. Until last week. Last week, after a particularly successful ransacking of some long since evacuated banker's home, we sat again in that cellar, eating out of tin cans and listening to a radio we'd been lucky to find. As the broadcast had come to an end and we sat in silence, Dieter spoke to me. He told me that he'd deserted the army because he'd seen terrible things our people had done. I thought to myself it was likely untrue, or exaggerated, or even if true, it was justified to accomplish what we'd sent out to do, but I told him I understood. He went quiet, and looked deep into his empty can for a moment, then he looked at me, and he spoke three words that have burned themselves into my mind for the rest of my life. "It was me." I looked at him, remaining silent. I fought back rage, disgust, outrage, this man had not only betrayed his people, betrayed his country, he had killed them. He tried to kill me. He killed my friends. With all the restraint I could muster, I spoke in a calm, level tone, "I understand." He nodded, and excused himself. Eventually, everyone followed suit and retired, but only one had not slept. One person waited until the others slept, one person had made the quiet trek to the train station at the other side of town, one person sent a wire back west, and the following morning, one person stood to the side as a dozen misfits were herded onto a truck. That same person watched with indifference as a bottomless contempt stared back at him in single file, until the last one was ready to embark. It was Dieter. His eyes were unapologetic, glassy, and empty, a person that had lost everything, and had been left with only spite. I asked the guards to stop a moment. I drew my sidearm, and leveled it between his uncaring eyes. He did nothing. I fired. After a day, I was told to report further east. Instead, I again abandoned my post, but this time, alone. I knew sooner or later I'd be on the hook for the crimes I'd taken part in for the past two weeks. I knew the partisans were either dead, or soon to be. At first, I didn't believe I cared, they were all traitors or worse, and I had done what needed to be done. But as each day passed, the weight of the silent town grew. The barn and cellar became somehow smaller. I realized I too, had been a traitor, and that these people had been the last people I would have the trust of. While Dieter had killed his own, the others weren't any more guilty than I had been, and so I came to resolve, though I would never be accepted, by any side or by my own, I had one last justice to enforce. I reach the train station across town, a single man operates the telegraph. The front is so far east now that there's no reason to waste any more manpower in an abandoned town. I enter the office, a stumble, he tries to stand but he's pinned before he has time to react. A few bruises and a cord of rope later, he's being led to the old barn on the other side of town. Inside, a chair sits atop a pile of straw. A small table sits next to it, and atop it, an old flensing knife, a notebook, and a pen. The next few hours aren't quiet, and the screams somehow comfort me. I know there's no possible way it could be the right thing to do, but I don't care, and just embrace the feeling. I leave the barn, holding the notebook, with the time and address I need. I fetch the truck the group had kept stashed a few houses away, I climb into its frigid and dusty cab, and check my rifle one more time. As the engine starts, I step out one more time to brush the thick layer of snow on the windshield. As clumps fall to the ground and my fingers begin to numb, only one thing comes to mind. Fuck the snow.
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	He was afraid, I could smell it on him. Who wouldn’t be. “You don’t know what you’re dooming me to.” He said pathetically, struggling with his bonds. I looked up from the dagger I was sharpening and smiled. “Yes I do.” That got a reaction out of him. A funny little squeal of fear. I nearly chuckled but kept my composure. “Why are you doing this?” He asked pleadingly. I rolled my eyes. “Why do you care? Will it hurt less if you know why I’m pulling your intestines out through your belly button? “Oh shit.” He spluttered, starting to sob now. I chuckled. Couldn’t help myself. Neither could he, judging by the dark stain growing on the front of his pants. I tossed the dagger up in the air and caught it by the hilt and stood up with a satisfied grunt. I went around, double checking that everything was in place. This was a tricky business, no take backs. But hey, l like playing for keeps. Without looking up from the circle of protection I said, “My friends, they’ve gone missing for a while now so I figure that they’ve gone and got themselves killed.” I stood and inspected the various runes carved into the ground, filled with goat’s blood. “They’re the good-guy types, always going around, trying to fix shit.” He let out a groan and I nodded appreciatively. “Heh, yeah, it can be pretty annoying at times.” I flipped through the book until I found the right summoning spells. “H-h-how do you know if this is even going to work? What if decides to drag you into the Pit as well?” He said, trying to reason his way out this one. I grinned. “You think this is my first time? What about me says ‘virginal’ to you? No, this isn’t the only time I’ve had to bring them back from the abyss because of some cockeyed good-guy bullshit that went badly.” I let out a short laugh, “One time I did this ritual when I thought they had got themselves killed by some very nasty Orc fellows but it turned out we just got separated. Hilarious. I would’ve told them but they wouldn’t have appreciated the humor.” “How could they be good if they cavort with the likes of you?” He spat venomously. This question took me aback and I paused for a moment, thinking it over. “Well, I don’t know if they’re actually good or not. They seem like good-guys to me but maybe my standard is a bit off from regulation. They don’t know about this though, or some of the other stuff I do. But I’m willing to do anything to pretty much anyone if it get’s me what I want. Maybe that makes me a bad guy.” The preparations were finished. I was ready to begin. I stood over him and raised the dagger above his chest. I looked down, directly in his eyes and smiled. “But who says the bad guy can’t have friends?” And in a swift motion, I brought the knife down.	Fuck the snow. Freshly fallen snow carpeted the entire town, the muddy road, the burned out storefronts it wound around, I could even see where it had begun to pile into a townhouse whose roof had given way to a shelling months prior. The only sounds I could hear were the crunching of snow with every next step, and the faint but persistent howling of wind in this wretched relic of brighter times. Alone. Three weeks ago, it had all seemed so much simpler. Push east, liberate our people, put down the bloodthirsty mob that sought to destroy our traditions, our faith and our home. That's exactly what was in my mind when I was sitting in the back of that truck as it bounced across another nameless road, if it could be called such. I couldn't speak to how the others felt, one was smoking a cigarette, one read from a small book he kept in his pocket, another fidgeted with his helmet for the third time since our redeployment. I don't know which one helped the most when a HE round tore through the front of the truck, but I do know being the last person to get on the truck hadn't hurt. As I'd crawled my way from the wreckage, I couldn't hear, smoke burned my nose. I thought it'd only be moments before I'd find a bullet passing through the back of my skull, but if I managed to make my escape, I would personally find every person behind that gun and skin them alive. Instead, I collapsed. I'd awoken in a storm cellar, to a little less than a dozen men and women talking under a single bare bulb. From my cot, I could see that very little of their clothing matched, some was ours, some was theirs, some was native. What they did have in common was bodies that seemed unnaturally thin, and their eyes had the bruised circles of many days without rest. I had been bound, but bandaged, and apparently tossed in a corner while the group had decided what to do with me. Truth be told, I don't remember all their names, because I largely did not care. The only two I can remember are Lena and Dieter, the two of which were engaged in a heated argument on whether to follow the former's plan to interrogate and execute me, or the latter's suggestion of persuading me to shift my allegiances. Realizing the situation I was in, I first felt a wave of revulsion at the idea of betraying what I stood for, then an unclean sense of self-loathing as I quickly began to slander everything I'd sworn to uphold. I attempted to stand, but stumbled, still dizzy from the impact. At first, they were naturally distrustful, but I knew my only chance of survival was compliance: they plied me for information, I told, they asked how I'd come to service, I lied, they invited me to use my allegiance for their gain, I obliged. The next two weeks were spent lying, stealing and swindling for these people. I'd come to find that these people weren't on their side, but were a string of those people war lets slip through the cracks: partisans, deserters from either side, criminals, anyone who had nowhere else to go. They operated from a relatively intact barn at the edge of this forsaken town, and they survived by scrounging from the town, countryside and any troops that happened to be passing through. I never particularly learned to care for the deserters or partisans, they were traitors all in all, but I could learn to forgive them, and we grew into an uneasy peace. Until last week. Last week, after a particularly successful ransacking of some long since evacuated banker's home, we sat again in that cellar, eating out of tin cans and listening to a radio we'd been lucky to find. As the broadcast had come to an end and we sat in silence, Dieter spoke to me. He told me that he'd deserted the army because he'd seen terrible things our people had done. I thought to myself it was likely untrue, or exaggerated, or even if true, it was justified to accomplish what we'd sent out to do, but I told him I understood. He went quiet, and looked deep into his empty can for a moment, then he looked at me, and he spoke three words that have burned themselves into my mind for the rest of my life. "It was me." I looked at him, remaining silent. I fought back rage, disgust, outrage, this man had not only betrayed his people, betrayed his country, he had killed them. He tried to kill me. He killed my friends. With all the restraint I could muster, I spoke in a calm, level tone, "I understand." He nodded, and excused himself. Eventually, everyone followed suit and retired, but only one had not slept. One person waited until the others slept, one person had made the quiet trek to the train station at the other side of town, one person sent a wire back west, and the following morning, one person stood to the side as a dozen misfits were herded onto a truck. That same person watched with indifference as a bottomless contempt stared back at him in single file, until the last one was ready to embark. It was Dieter. His eyes were unapologetic, glassy, and empty, a person that had lost everything, and had been left with only spite. I asked the guards to stop a moment. I drew my sidearm, and leveled it between his uncaring eyes. He did nothing. I fired. After a day, I was told to report further east. Instead, I again abandoned my post, but this time, alone. I knew sooner or later I'd be on the hook for the crimes I'd taken part in for the past two weeks. I knew the partisans were either dead, or soon to be. At first, I didn't believe I cared, they were all traitors or worse, and I had done what needed to be done. But as each day passed, the weight of the silent town grew. The barn and cellar became somehow smaller. I realized I too, had been a traitor, and that these people had been the last people I would have the trust of. While Dieter had killed his own, the others weren't any more guilty than I had been, and so I came to resolve, though I would never be accepted, by any side or by my own, I had one last justice to enforce. I reach the train station across town, a single man operates the telegraph. The front is so far east now that there's no reason to waste any more manpower in an abandoned town. I enter the office, a stumble, he tries to stand but he's pinned before he has time to react. A few bruises and a cord of rope later, he's being led to the old barn on the other side of town. Inside, a chair sits atop a pile of straw. A small table sits next to it, and atop it, an old flensing knife, a notebook, and a pen. The next few hours aren't quiet, and the screams somehow comfort me. I know there's no possible way it could be the right thing to do, but I don't care, and just embrace the feeling. I leave the barn, holding the notebook, with the time and address I need. I fetch the truck the group had kept stashed a few houses away, I climb into its frigid and dusty cab, and check my rifle one more time. As the engine starts, I step out one more time to brush the thick layer of snow on the windshield. As clumps fall to the ground and my fingers begin to numb, only one thing comes to mind. Fuck the snow.
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	"You know, when they asked me to join them, they made me swear I had never broken any laws." I looked down at the half-elf staked spread eagle to the floor. "That was actually true. But they didn't think to ask if I had ever done anything, hmm. Morally questionable." I checked the ropes and my supplies. All was well, of course, but one never could be too careful. "They never asked me what it was I actually did in the king's service." The petty noble's eyes widened as he thrashed about in impotent rage. I stepped on his neck, just enough to remind him of his vulnerable position. He stopped struggling, but glared at me with hatred in his eyes. "I am now going to remove your gag, my friend. We are going to have a conversation. Well, in truth, I fear it will be a bit one sided. You will tell me all you know." I knelt down behind his head and removed the gag. He spat at me, but I had chosen my position carefully and was easily able to move out of the way. Long experience stood me in good stead. "Do you know who I am! How dare you lay your filthy hands on me. I will have you flogged! No, I will have you flayed! Suppressing the urge to roll my eyes was difficult. "And how, pray tell, do you plan on making that happen, Cirloc?" He fell silent, and I almost laughed at his expression. "Raising your voice is usually enough for you, isn't it?" He looked at me, bewildered and angry. He began screaming "Guards, guards! Help!" over and over again, until I put a foot in his ribs. "Please save your voice. I'm afraid you were unconscious longer than you think. If you had taken a moment to examine your surroundings, you would have perhaps noticed the fresh air. The deep woods at night are quite pleasant to the nose, I find. Much different than the stink of the city, is it not? Ah. I see the true nature of your situation is beginning to dawn on you. No one is coming for you. It is simply you," I said, tapping his forehead for emphasis, "and me." I stood up slowly, turning my back on him and gazing into the fire. "I want names, affiliations, relationships, locations, passwords, lock combinations. Their fucking shoe sizes." The venom in my voice took me by surprise. I took a deep breath. "You will tell me everything." "I'll tell you nothing! Flaying is too good for you! I'll have my servants tear" I raised a hand. "No doubt you were about to say something very creative, but time presses." My flat interruption shocked him into silence. "As for me, I prefer methods less theatrical. Tonight, for example, I have an iron bucket, a rope, and some rats." I nodded to the corner. "Shall we begin, then?" Some time later, as the echoes of his screams died with him, I doused the body and the cabin liberally with lantern oil, and as I exited into the cool night air, I capped the leather flask and tossed it into the fireplace. With practiced speed, I closed the door and walked up a nearby hill. I heard a muffled thump as the flask exploded, and as I gazed down into the rising blaze, I reflected back on my time with Cirloc. I had watched his eyes progress through each stage: Anger. Fear. Pain. Agony. Gibbering madness. And the look of acceptance, just before the end. Just like all the others. And now I had the information I needed. (Picture this performed by, say, Jeffrey Coombs. Let me know what you think.)	Fuck the snow. Freshly fallen snow carpeted the entire town, the muddy road, the burned out storefronts it wound around, I could even see where it had begun to pile into a townhouse whose roof had given way to a shelling months prior. The only sounds I could hear were the crunching of snow with every next step, and the faint but persistent howling of wind in this wretched relic of brighter times. Alone. Three weeks ago, it had all seemed so much simpler. Push east, liberate our people, put down the bloodthirsty mob that sought to destroy our traditions, our faith and our home. That's exactly what was in my mind when I was sitting in the back of that truck as it bounced across another nameless road, if it could be called such. I couldn't speak to how the others felt, one was smoking a cigarette, one read from a small book he kept in his pocket, another fidgeted with his helmet for the third time since our redeployment. I don't know which one helped the most when a HE round tore through the front of the truck, but I do know being the last person to get on the truck hadn't hurt. As I'd crawled my way from the wreckage, I couldn't hear, smoke burned my nose. I thought it'd only be moments before I'd find a bullet passing through the back of my skull, but if I managed to make my escape, I would personally find every person behind that gun and skin them alive. Instead, I collapsed. I'd awoken in a storm cellar, to a little less than a dozen men and women talking under a single bare bulb. From my cot, I could see that very little of their clothing matched, some was ours, some was theirs, some was native. What they did have in common was bodies that seemed unnaturally thin, and their eyes had the bruised circles of many days without rest. I had been bound, but bandaged, and apparently tossed in a corner while the group had decided what to do with me. Truth be told, I don't remember all their names, because I largely did not care. The only two I can remember are Lena and Dieter, the two of which were engaged in a heated argument on whether to follow the former's plan to interrogate and execute me, or the latter's suggestion of persuading me to shift my allegiances. Realizing the situation I was in, I first felt a wave of revulsion at the idea of betraying what I stood for, then an unclean sense of self-loathing as I quickly began to slander everything I'd sworn to uphold. I attempted to stand, but stumbled, still dizzy from the impact. At first, they were naturally distrustful, but I knew my only chance of survival was compliance: they plied me for information, I told, they asked how I'd come to service, I lied, they invited me to use my allegiance for their gain, I obliged. The next two weeks were spent lying, stealing and swindling for these people. I'd come to find that these people weren't on their side, but were a string of those people war lets slip through the cracks: partisans, deserters from either side, criminals, anyone who had nowhere else to go. They operated from a relatively intact barn at the edge of this forsaken town, and they survived by scrounging from the town, countryside and any troops that happened to be passing through. I never particularly learned to care for the deserters or partisans, they were traitors all in all, but I could learn to forgive them, and we grew into an uneasy peace. Until last week. Last week, after a particularly successful ransacking of some long since evacuated banker's home, we sat again in that cellar, eating out of tin cans and listening to a radio we'd been lucky to find. As the broadcast had come to an end and we sat in silence, Dieter spoke to me. He told me that he'd deserted the army because he'd seen terrible things our people had done. I thought to myself it was likely untrue, or exaggerated, or even if true, it was justified to accomplish what we'd sent out to do, but I told him I understood. He went quiet, and looked deep into his empty can for a moment, then he looked at me, and he spoke three words that have burned themselves into my mind for the rest of my life. "It was me." I looked at him, remaining silent. I fought back rage, disgust, outrage, this man had not only betrayed his people, betrayed his country, he had killed them. He tried to kill me. He killed my friends. With all the restraint I could muster, I spoke in a calm, level tone, "I understand." He nodded, and excused himself. Eventually, everyone followed suit and retired, but only one had not slept. One person waited until the others slept, one person had made the quiet trek to the train station at the other side of town, one person sent a wire back west, and the following morning, one person stood to the side as a dozen misfits were herded onto a truck. That same person watched with indifference as a bottomless contempt stared back at him in single file, until the last one was ready to embark. It was Dieter. His eyes were unapologetic, glassy, and empty, a person that had lost everything, and had been left with only spite. I asked the guards to stop a moment. I drew my sidearm, and leveled it between his uncaring eyes. He did nothing. I fired. After a day, I was told to report further east. Instead, I again abandoned my post, but this time, alone. I knew sooner or later I'd be on the hook for the crimes I'd taken part in for the past two weeks. I knew the partisans were either dead, or soon to be. At first, I didn't believe I cared, they were all traitors or worse, and I had done what needed to be done. But as each day passed, the weight of the silent town grew. The barn and cellar became somehow smaller. I realized I too, had been a traitor, and that these people had been the last people I would have the trust of. While Dieter had killed his own, the others weren't any more guilty than I had been, and so I came to resolve, though I would never be accepted, by any side or by my own, I had one last justice to enforce. I reach the train station across town, a single man operates the telegraph. The front is so far east now that there's no reason to waste any more manpower in an abandoned town. I enter the office, a stumble, he tries to stand but he's pinned before he has time to react. A few bruises and a cord of rope later, he's being led to the old barn on the other side of town. Inside, a chair sits atop a pile of straw. A small table sits next to it, and atop it, an old flensing knife, a notebook, and a pen. The next few hours aren't quiet, and the screams somehow comfort me. I know there's no possible way it could be the right thing to do, but I don't care, and just embrace the feeling. I leave the barn, holding the notebook, with the time and address I need. I fetch the truck the group had kept stashed a few houses away, I climb into its frigid and dusty cab, and check my rifle one more time. As the engine starts, I step out one more time to brush the thick layer of snow on the windshield. As clumps fall to the ground and my fingers begin to numb, only one thing comes to mind. Fuck the snow.
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	In the muted light of the room, Lakme's 'Flower Duet' played. It almost made for a romantic atmosphere. Almost. "You see... Marcus... here's the thing. I'm not what you would call a good person." Marcus O'Reilly sneered up at me from the chair to which I'd tied him. When he came in the door to his palatial estate home, I'd surprised him from behind with chloroform and a rag. He struggled for a few seconds, but even a man of his size and physical fitness couldn't resist the sweet siren call of slumber under those circumstances. I'd handcuffed him to the chair, positioned him in the middle of his massive living room, and waited patiently for him to wake up. I'd already been waiting hours for him to come home, so a couple more wasn't a huge deal at this point. When he finally awoke, blinking away the confusion and disorientation, he didn't notice me at first in the muted light. But once he did, his attention snapped to me and he grinned his trademark sadistic grin. He told me I was a dead man, that I didn't even know it yet. Then he asked me just what the hell I was trying to pull off, that he had to know before I died, so he could satisfy his curiosity. I just sat there in my chair, staring at him, expressionless. What seemed like an eternity passed before he spoke again. "Well asshole? What's your game plan here? I gotta know. You better talk quick, my security will be doing their sweeps any minute now, and when they do, you're as good as dead." I blinked, then adopted a concerned expression. "Security?" "Jesus," he said smugly. "You didn't think I'd have security? Who do you think you're dealing with?" "Oh, I know you had security," I said, reaching out with one booted foot and tipping over the large Rubbermaid bin, spilling its contents over the polished hardwood floor. "I just don't think they're going to be much help, is all." Marcus blanched as he saw eight severed heads roll onto the living room floor, leaving a coagulated blood trail behind them. "Jeff put up the biggest fight, in case you were wondering. His widow should get some kind of bonus." O'Reilly's eyes slowly lifted from the decapitated heads up to meet my eyes. "You think someone won't notice there's a problem? You'll never make it out of here alive," he said, but with less bravado this time. "Someone will notice I'm missing, and they'll come to check what happened. You're as good as dead." "By the time they do," I replied flatly, "They'll find nothing but a charred skeleton of your former house. There will be nothing left for them to use to track me down. I've made sure of that." Marcus lost his cool then, and struggled violently against his handcuffs, trying to escape. In his attempts, he flopped over onto his side, knocking his head against the floor. He groaned as I moved over and lifted him back up into a sitting position. "Here's the thing, Marcus. As I mentioned, I'm not a good person. You ordered my friends captured. I want them back. So I'm going to make you a very simple deal, one that you won't want to refuse." "Fuck you," he sputtered hatefully. I walked to the wall, switching on the rest of the lights in the room for the first time. His eyes went as wide as dinner plates. "As you can see," I said coldly, "I also have your wife, two daughters and son here tonight." Behind me, the wife and children also struggled against their bonds, their muffled cries now barely audible over the classical music, which had now changed to Tchaikovsky's 'Slave March'. "I'm going to give you a choice, Marcus. You die tonight, regardless. I just can't leave you alive, it's simply too risky. But I will give you the opportunity to let your wife and kids live." I slowly walked over to them, and began caressing the hair of his wife as she frantically struggled. "You tell me where my friends are. If I find them alive and unharmed, I will release your wife and kids. They will not have to share your fate, burning and suffocating in a horrifying house fire 'accident'." I moved, now caressing his older daughter's head as she cried soundlessly. "If you refuse, I will burn this place to the ground and move on to your senior lieutenant next. I'm pretty sure he'll talk, but even if he doesn't... I have plenty of chances to get this information from someone under your employ, so don't think for one second that I'm bluffing. You aren't the only option available to me. You have no cards to play here." His eyes moved from his family to the disembodied heads of his trusted guards, then back to me. I saw the look of resignation on his face as he realized I was correct. "You promise you'll let them go?" he asked quietly. "You have my word," I replied. "They don't know who I am." "You know," Marcus said with sad amusement, "You would have made an excellent addition to my organization." I smiled, coldly. "You have no idea how right you are."	Fuck the snow. Freshly fallen snow carpeted the entire town, the muddy road, the burned out storefronts it wound around, I could even see where it had begun to pile into a townhouse whose roof had given way to a shelling months prior. The only sounds I could hear were the crunching of snow with every next step, and the faint but persistent howling of wind in this wretched relic of brighter times. Alone. Three weeks ago, it had all seemed so much simpler. Push east, liberate our people, put down the bloodthirsty mob that sought to destroy our traditions, our faith and our home. That's exactly what was in my mind when I was sitting in the back of that truck as it bounced across another nameless road, if it could be called such. I couldn't speak to how the others felt, one was smoking a cigarette, one read from a small book he kept in his pocket, another fidgeted with his helmet for the third time since our redeployment. I don't know which one helped the most when a HE round tore through the front of the truck, but I do know being the last person to get on the truck hadn't hurt. As I'd crawled my way from the wreckage, I couldn't hear, smoke burned my nose. I thought it'd only be moments before I'd find a bullet passing through the back of my skull, but if I managed to make my escape, I would personally find every person behind that gun and skin them alive. Instead, I collapsed. I'd awoken in a storm cellar, to a little less than a dozen men and women talking under a single bare bulb. From my cot, I could see that very little of their clothing matched, some was ours, some was theirs, some was native. What they did have in common was bodies that seemed unnaturally thin, and their eyes had the bruised circles of many days without rest. I had been bound, but bandaged, and apparently tossed in a corner while the group had decided what to do with me. Truth be told, I don't remember all their names, because I largely did not care. The only two I can remember are Lena and Dieter, the two of which were engaged in a heated argument on whether to follow the former's plan to interrogate and execute me, or the latter's suggestion of persuading me to shift my allegiances. Realizing the situation I was in, I first felt a wave of revulsion at the idea of betraying what I stood for, then an unclean sense of self-loathing as I quickly began to slander everything I'd sworn to uphold. I attempted to stand, but stumbled, still dizzy from the impact. At first, they were naturally distrustful, but I knew my only chance of survival was compliance: they plied me for information, I told, they asked how I'd come to service, I lied, they invited me to use my allegiance for their gain, I obliged. The next two weeks were spent lying, stealing and swindling for these people. I'd come to find that these people weren't on their side, but were a string of those people war lets slip through the cracks: partisans, deserters from either side, criminals, anyone who had nowhere else to go. They operated from a relatively intact barn at the edge of this forsaken town, and they survived by scrounging from the town, countryside and any troops that happened to be passing through. I never particularly learned to care for the deserters or partisans, they were traitors all in all, but I could learn to forgive them, and we grew into an uneasy peace. Until last week. Last week, after a particularly successful ransacking of some long since evacuated banker's home, we sat again in that cellar, eating out of tin cans and listening to a radio we'd been lucky to find. As the broadcast had come to an end and we sat in silence, Dieter spoke to me. He told me that he'd deserted the army because he'd seen terrible things our people had done. I thought to myself it was likely untrue, or exaggerated, or even if true, it was justified to accomplish what we'd sent out to do, but I told him I understood. He went quiet, and looked deep into his empty can for a moment, then he looked at me, and he spoke three words that have burned themselves into my mind for the rest of my life. "It was me." I looked at him, remaining silent. I fought back rage, disgust, outrage, this man had not only betrayed his people, betrayed his country, he had killed them. He tried to kill me. He killed my friends. With all the restraint I could muster, I spoke in a calm, level tone, "I understand." He nodded, and excused himself. Eventually, everyone followed suit and retired, but only one had not slept. One person waited until the others slept, one person had made the quiet trek to the train station at the other side of town, one person sent a wire back west, and the following morning, one person stood to the side as a dozen misfits were herded onto a truck. That same person watched with indifference as a bottomless contempt stared back at him in single file, until the last one was ready to embark. It was Dieter. His eyes were unapologetic, glassy, and empty, a person that had lost everything, and had been left with only spite. I asked the guards to stop a moment. I drew my sidearm, and leveled it between his uncaring eyes. He did nothing. I fired. After a day, I was told to report further east. Instead, I again abandoned my post, but this time, alone. I knew sooner or later I'd be on the hook for the crimes I'd taken part in for the past two weeks. I knew the partisans were either dead, or soon to be. At first, I didn't believe I cared, they were all traitors or worse, and I had done what needed to be done. But as each day passed, the weight of the silent town grew. The barn and cellar became somehow smaller. I realized I too, had been a traitor, and that these people had been the last people I would have the trust of. While Dieter had killed his own, the others weren't any more guilty than I had been, and so I came to resolve, though I would never be accepted, by any side or by my own, I had one last justice to enforce. I reach the train station across town, a single man operates the telegraph. The front is so far east now that there's no reason to waste any more manpower in an abandoned town. I enter the office, a stumble, he tries to stand but he's pinned before he has time to react. A few bruises and a cord of rope later, he's being led to the old barn on the other side of town. Inside, a chair sits atop a pile of straw. A small table sits next to it, and atop it, an old flensing knife, a notebook, and a pen. The next few hours aren't quiet, and the screams somehow comfort me. I know there's no possible way it could be the right thing to do, but I don't care, and just embrace the feeling. I leave the barn, holding the notebook, with the time and address I need. I fetch the truck the group had kept stashed a few houses away, I climb into its frigid and dusty cab, and check my rifle one more time. As the engine starts, I step out one more time to brush the thick layer of snow on the windshield. As clumps fall to the ground and my fingers begin to numb, only one thing comes to mind. Fuck the snow.
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	"You know, when they asked me to join them, they made me swear I had never broken any laws." I looked down at the half-elf staked spread eagle to the floor. "That was actually true. But they didn't think to ask if I had ever done anything, hmm. Morally questionable." I checked the ropes and my supplies. All was well, of course, but one never could be too careful. "They never asked me what it was I actually did in the king's service." The petty noble's eyes widened as he thrashed about in impotent rage. I stepped on his neck, just enough to remind him of his vulnerable position. He stopped struggling, but glared at me with hatred in his eyes. "I am now going to remove your gag, my friend. We are going to have a conversation. Well, in truth, I fear it will be a bit one sided. You will tell me all you know." I knelt down behind his head and removed the gag. He spat at me, but I had chosen my position carefully and was easily able to move out of the way. Long experience stood me in good stead. "Do you know who I am! How dare you lay your filthy hands on me. I will have you flogged! No, I will have you flayed! Suppressing the urge to roll my eyes was difficult. "And how, pray tell, do you plan on making that happen, Cirloc?" He fell silent, and I almost laughed at his expression. "Raising your voice is usually enough for you, isn't it?" He looked at me, bewildered and angry. He began screaming "Guards, guards! Help!" over and over again, until I put a foot in his ribs. "Please save your voice. I'm afraid you were unconscious longer than you think. If you had taken a moment to examine your surroundings, you would have perhaps noticed the fresh air. The deep woods at night are quite pleasant to the nose, I find. Much different than the stink of the city, is it not? Ah. I see the true nature of your situation is beginning to dawn on you. No one is coming for you. It is simply you," I said, tapping his forehead for emphasis, "and me." I stood up slowly, turning my back on him and gazing into the fire. "I want names, affiliations, relationships, locations, passwords, lock combinations. Their fucking shoe sizes." The venom in my voice took me by surprise. I took a deep breath. "You will tell me everything." "I'll tell you nothing! Flaying is too good for you! I'll have my servants tear" I raised a hand. "No doubt you were about to say something very creative, but time presses." My flat interruption shocked him into silence. "As for me, I prefer methods less theatrical. Tonight, for example, I have an iron bucket, a rope, and some rats." I nodded to the corner. "Shall we begin, then?" Some time later, as the echoes of his screams died with him, I doused the body and the cabin liberally with lantern oil, and as I exited into the cool night air, I capped the leather flask and tossed it into the fireplace. With practiced speed, I closed the door and walked up a nearby hill. I heard a muffled thump as the flask exploded, and as I gazed down into the rising blaze, I reflected back on my time with Cirloc. I had watched his eyes progress through each stage: Anger. Fear. Pain. Agony. Gibbering madness. And the look of acceptance, just before the end. Just like all the others. And now I had the information I needed. (Picture this performed by, say, Jeffrey Coombs. Let me know what you think.)	Drip. Drip. Drip. Rainwater flows off of the broken glass of the window that Mordecai had just thrown a guard through, pooling on the floor. Was he involved? Unlikely. Was he in the way? Most definitely. Hence why he was in a broken pile, six stories down. His raven hair is slicked back with rainwater, his helmet hanging from a leather band on his waist. For all intents and purposes, he was a knight. Beyond the visual however, was a total lack of knightly honor. A heavy plate boot rested on the back of the magistrate’s skull, pinning it to the hardwood floor of his office. “I’ll ask again, because, frankly, I don’t think you’re hearing my question. Where were they taken?” He rasped out of a scarred throat, the result of mouthing off to an interrogator during one of his stints in a lord’s dungeon. A mottled burn scar ran from his throat to under his left eye, where hot oil had been liberally applied. “I don’t know who you’re talking about!” The magistrate whined, earning a more firm step against his skull. Mordecai had warned him, after all. ‘Lie to me, and I’ll pop your head like a grape.’ Exact words. “Papa?” Two pairs of eyes snapped up to meet baby blue ones. Childlike confusion and fear meeting one pair of fearful eyes, and one pair of blank, calculating ones. The girl couldn’t have been older than nine. And terrified of the rasping monster in this tattered armor. “Maybe.. I’ll ask her?” His voice came out a gravelly snarl, the sound joined by the serpentine hiss of a blade leaving it’s scabbard. The girl took a step back, but there was a rattle of plate, followed by a strangled cry as a fistful of blonde hair is grabbed by a steel gauntlet. Where had the cry originated? Hard to say. A similar sound had left the girl and her father at the same time. The magistrate began to blubber just before the cold, black steel of Mordecai’s dagger touched the tender one’s throat. “Duskford! They’re in Duskford!” The prison city. Home to the worst the kingdom had to offer. Monsters. Murderers. Thieves. Victoria passed through his mind. The lady paladin was by no means a gentle sort. But she didn’t deserve the depravity they’d thrown her to. Oleanna.. She did not either. He felt the ghost of her hands stitching the now scarred gash on his good cheek. She was too kind. Garrett.. music played in his head. The red face of the scholar as he offered the scarred warrior his hand. The feeling of shedding his plate to dance the evening away. Lips on his. Something more to while away the wee hours. “Duskford.” Came the hoarse confirmation from Mordecai, releasing the girl as his thoughts flooded his head. She ran. Fine. Let her run. “You sent them to Duskford. They did nothing but help this rotten place.. and that is how you repay them?” He turned back to the magistrate, the cold in his eyes slowly being overtaken by something.. black. Hot, seething, black rage. Gods help them. He was glad Garrett wasn’t there to see what he did next. The guards had been called to the manor for a disturbance. Shouting and broken glass, steel on steel. Reported by the nearest neighbors. They hadn’t expected this when they got there. The Magistrate hung limp, impaled on the sword the statue of the god of justice held in his courtyard. His innards his outers now. And below that... A head turned, a baleful eye meeting the captain of the guard’s from under a helmet, spattered with blood. “Justice will be done, your way..” The rasp of a longsword being drawn. “Or mine. What do you know..” He turned slowly, settling into a relaxed fighter’s stance. “About Duskford?”
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	"You know, when they asked me to join them, they made me swear I had never broken any laws." I looked down at the half-elf staked spread eagle to the floor. "That was actually true. But they didn't think to ask if I had ever done anything, hmm. Morally questionable." I checked the ropes and my supplies. All was well, of course, but one never could be too careful. "They never asked me what it was I actually did in the king's service." The petty noble's eyes widened as he thrashed about in impotent rage. I stepped on his neck, just enough to remind him of his vulnerable position. He stopped struggling, but glared at me with hatred in his eyes. "I am now going to remove your gag, my friend. We are going to have a conversation. Well, in truth, I fear it will be a bit one sided. You will tell me all you know." I knelt down behind his head and removed the gag. He spat at me, but I had chosen my position carefully and was easily able to move out of the way. Long experience stood me in good stead. "Do you know who I am! How dare you lay your filthy hands on me. I will have you flogged! No, I will have you flayed! Suppressing the urge to roll my eyes was difficult. "And how, pray tell, do you plan on making that happen, Cirloc?" He fell silent, and I almost laughed at his expression. "Raising your voice is usually enough for you, isn't it?" He looked at me, bewildered and angry. He began screaming "Guards, guards! Help!" over and over again, until I put a foot in his ribs. "Please save your voice. I'm afraid you were unconscious longer than you think. If you had taken a moment to examine your surroundings, you would have perhaps noticed the fresh air. The deep woods at night are quite pleasant to the nose, I find. Much different than the stink of the city, is it not? Ah. I see the true nature of your situation is beginning to dawn on you. No one is coming for you. It is simply you," I said, tapping his forehead for emphasis, "and me." I stood up slowly, turning my back on him and gazing into the fire. "I want names, affiliations, relationships, locations, passwords, lock combinations. Their fucking shoe sizes." The venom in my voice took me by surprise. I took a deep breath. "You will tell me everything." "I'll tell you nothing! Flaying is too good for you! I'll have my servants tear" I raised a hand. "No doubt you were about to say something very creative, but time presses." My flat interruption shocked him into silence. "As for me, I prefer methods less theatrical. Tonight, for example, I have an iron bucket, a rope, and some rats." I nodded to the corner. "Shall we begin, then?" Some time later, as the echoes of his screams died with him, I doused the body and the cabin liberally with lantern oil, and as I exited into the cool night air, I capped the leather flask and tossed it into the fireplace. With practiced speed, I closed the door and walked up a nearby hill. I heard a muffled thump as the flask exploded, and as I gazed down into the rising blaze, I reflected back on my time with Cirloc. I had watched his eyes progress through each stage: Anger. Fear. Pain. Agony. Gibbering madness. And the look of acceptance, just before the end. Just like all the others. And now I had the information I needed. (Picture this performed by, say, Jeffrey Coombs. Let me know what you think.)	Manny stood by the limply hanging body of a man. The poor fool had run, and gotten himself tangled and mangled by the razorvine that was fairly common in the forest, and as a result had bled out on the ground, where the carnivorous plant's root structure lay. Manny shook his head and sighed, the thin plant tendrils were already red from the blood meal being siphoned up from the ground. The man was his only current lead. For most, this would mean the trail was now lost, gone cold. But Manny wasn't most people. He grew out half-foot long claws on one hand, and drove them into the corpse's chest. The dead man awoke instantly, suddenly alive again... and suddenly screaming again. There were some twitches as he thrashed, but his initial encounter with the vine had severed most of the relevant muscles, so all he managed was maybe a little sawing of the tough plant fiber into his bones. "Oh do shut up..." Manny loosed a silence magic over the fellow, not giving him much choice. "... good. Now... where were we before you thought you could run? Oh, yes..." He paused, though the man would be unable to speak until the silence abated. Manny had to control himself so he didn't monologue, a very bad and old habit. "I was asking you about my wards... they are hard to miss. Both blonde, blue eyed young ladies, like mute little angels." The dangling man coughed as the spell faded, and then groaned. "I...I don't know... please, it hurts... just let me go, please!" Manny shook his head. "No, if you don't know, then you better tell me who does." When the man looked hesitant, Manny twisted his claws to tear open the man's chest. The man looked racked with pure pain, then panic as he realized he was returned to life by Manny, merely forced back into his mortal shell. Manny growled a bit. "Speak, or I might just leave you here, let you know what it feels like to have your bones gnawed on, or cracked open to get at the marrow." The man closed his eyes and shuddered. "Boss said he was taking them to the Thorned Rose, in Cloverton. Will you let me die now, please?" Manny thought on this, and snarled. "A brothel? Hanna and Greta don't belong there. They aren't for men like you to toy with." He was pissed. He'd promised Stitches he'd take care of the twins. They would not last in a whorehouse, they were too innocent. He yanked the claws out of the awakened corpse and trudged off, back to the road. The man hung there limply again, "Um... Hello? I'm... still here... Hello? Hello?" The razorvine twisted and retracted into the woody bulb at the core of its roots, leaving the limp body on the ground, weakly calling out as the scavenger fauna crept towards the recent kill, ready to risk a meal now that the vine was through with it. The voice called for help, sounding more scared and worried as critters stalked closer. As they began to feed, the voice started screaming again. Manny heard it, but he had other things on his mind. He needed to tree some bastard in Cloverton.
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	"You know, when they asked me to join them, they made me swear I had never broken any laws." I looked down at the half-elf staked spread eagle to the floor. "That was actually true. But they didn't think to ask if I had ever done anything, hmm. Morally questionable." I checked the ropes and my supplies. All was well, of course, but one never could be too careful. "They never asked me what it was I actually did in the king's service." The petty noble's eyes widened as he thrashed about in impotent rage. I stepped on his neck, just enough to remind him of his vulnerable position. He stopped struggling, but glared at me with hatred in his eyes. "I am now going to remove your gag, my friend. We are going to have a conversation. Well, in truth, I fear it will be a bit one sided. You will tell me all you know." I knelt down behind his head and removed the gag. He spat at me, but I had chosen my position carefully and was easily able to move out of the way. Long experience stood me in good stead. "Do you know who I am! How dare you lay your filthy hands on me. I will have you flogged! No, I will have you flayed! Suppressing the urge to roll my eyes was difficult. "And how, pray tell, do you plan on making that happen, Cirloc?" He fell silent, and I almost laughed at his expression. "Raising your voice is usually enough for you, isn't it?" He looked at me, bewildered and angry. He began screaming "Guards, guards! Help!" over and over again, until I put a foot in his ribs. "Please save your voice. I'm afraid you were unconscious longer than you think. If you had taken a moment to examine your surroundings, you would have perhaps noticed the fresh air. The deep woods at night are quite pleasant to the nose, I find. Much different than the stink of the city, is it not? Ah. I see the true nature of your situation is beginning to dawn on you. No one is coming for you. It is simply you," I said, tapping his forehead for emphasis, "and me." I stood up slowly, turning my back on him and gazing into the fire. "I want names, affiliations, relationships, locations, passwords, lock combinations. Their fucking shoe sizes." The venom in my voice took me by surprise. I took a deep breath. "You will tell me everything." "I'll tell you nothing! Flaying is too good for you! I'll have my servants tear" I raised a hand. "No doubt you were about to say something very creative, but time presses." My flat interruption shocked him into silence. "As for me, I prefer methods less theatrical. Tonight, for example, I have an iron bucket, a rope, and some rats." I nodded to the corner. "Shall we begin, then?" Some time later, as the echoes of his screams died with him, I doused the body and the cabin liberally with lantern oil, and as I exited into the cool night air, I capped the leather flask and tossed it into the fireplace. With practiced speed, I closed the door and walked up a nearby hill. I heard a muffled thump as the flask exploded, and as I gazed down into the rising blaze, I reflected back on my time with Cirloc. I had watched his eyes progress through each stage: Anger. Fear. Pain. Agony. Gibbering madness. And the look of acceptance, just before the end. Just like all the others. And now I had the information I needed. (Picture this performed by, say, Jeffrey Coombs. Let me know what you think.)	"Are you sure you want me?" "Yes!" The dwarf sounded so enthusiastic "I've stolen from almost everyone including you four!" "Oh we know" both the elves said in unison "Ive murdered before for easy money!" "But they were all shady people, their records were covered in filth" the lizard shot out. The dwarf walked up to me and put his hand on my scrawny shoulder. "You think your bad, but deep down under all those dark layers, is a true heart of gold!" . . "It's been 3 weeks since they've gone missing, the dwarf, the two elves, and the lizard. I know for a fact you know who did it and where they are, so make it easy for us" I held a dagger to his throat pressing harder with every silent moment "Go to hell you rotten tiefling! All your kind does is backstab and steal, why do you care about them anyways?" I dropped the dagger and walked towards a cage "You shouldn't be concerned with why I'm doing this, more as you should worry over her safety." I pulled away the cloth over the cage to reveal a slender red headed human "You wouldn't dare, I'll have every gaurd in this place hunt you down until you found, dead of alive!" I lit a match and turned to him "I don't think you are in the position to make threats right now, my dear commander. All you have to do is answer my question and I will untie you and put out the match." He looked me dead in the eye and laughed "Fine have it your way, drop the match." The redheads face dropped and she sank to the floor, quietly sobbing I let out out a long, deep sigh and out out the match "I already had all the information I needed from the journal you left in your bastard son's room, and the guard you had protecting there cell, and the paper left in your brothers room saying to get rid of my party." "I just wanted to see the colors of your heart, looks likes your is a shadowy black, darkening the world around you!" I grabbed my dagger and walked towards the commander "Oh yea? Shadowy black?! Well I guess that makes us the same, so let's make a deal! One where we both get what we wanted and I don't have to die!" "I dont make deals with anyone who cant see true colors, cause my heart is true gold!"
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	"You know, when they asked me to join them, they made me swear I had never broken any laws." I looked down at the half-elf staked spread eagle to the floor. "That was actually true. But they didn't think to ask if I had ever done anything, hmm. Morally questionable." I checked the ropes and my supplies. All was well, of course, but one never could be too careful. "They never asked me what it was I actually did in the king's service." The petty noble's eyes widened as he thrashed about in impotent rage. I stepped on his neck, just enough to remind him of his vulnerable position. He stopped struggling, but glared at me with hatred in his eyes. "I am now going to remove your gag, my friend. We are going to have a conversation. Well, in truth, I fear it will be a bit one sided. You will tell me all you know." I knelt down behind his head and removed the gag. He spat at me, but I had chosen my position carefully and was easily able to move out of the way. Long experience stood me in good stead. "Do you know who I am! How dare you lay your filthy hands on me. I will have you flogged! No, I will have you flayed! Suppressing the urge to roll my eyes was difficult. "And how, pray tell, do you plan on making that happen, Cirloc?" He fell silent, and I almost laughed at his expression. "Raising your voice is usually enough for you, isn't it?" He looked at me, bewildered and angry. He began screaming "Guards, guards! Help!" over and over again, until I put a foot in his ribs. "Please save your voice. I'm afraid you were unconscious longer than you think. If you had taken a moment to examine your surroundings, you would have perhaps noticed the fresh air. The deep woods at night are quite pleasant to the nose, I find. Much different than the stink of the city, is it not? Ah. I see the true nature of your situation is beginning to dawn on you. No one is coming for you. It is simply you," I said, tapping his forehead for emphasis, "and me." I stood up slowly, turning my back on him and gazing into the fire. "I want names, affiliations, relationships, locations, passwords, lock combinations. Their fucking shoe sizes." The venom in my voice took me by surprise. I took a deep breath. "You will tell me everything." "I'll tell you nothing! Flaying is too good for you! I'll have my servants tear" I raised a hand. "No doubt you were about to say something very creative, but time presses." My flat interruption shocked him into silence. "As for me, I prefer methods less theatrical. Tonight, for example, I have an iron bucket, a rope, and some rats." I nodded to the corner. "Shall we begin, then?" Some time later, as the echoes of his screams died with him, I doused the body and the cabin liberally with lantern oil, and as I exited into the cool night air, I capped the leather flask and tossed it into the fireplace. With practiced speed, I closed the door and walked up a nearby hill. I heard a muffled thump as the flask exploded, and as I gazed down into the rising blaze, I reflected back on my time with Cirloc. I had watched his eyes progress through each stage: Anger. Fear. Pain. Agony. Gibbering madness. And the look of acceptance, just before the end. Just like all the others. And now I had the information I needed. (Picture this performed by, say, Jeffrey Coombs. Let me know what you think.)	I am simply not a 'good' person, I practice dark magic, necromancy, I murder, pillage, and torture, hell I've even made a species or two go completely extinct due to my lack of care for living creatures, but these people are different, and I will go through any lengths to find them. "I swear! I never saw your party!" The bound knight screamed in agony, as I drove splinters between his fingernails, and slowly scorched his back "Really? Cause your friends said they did, they also said that you saw where my party went" His eyes were about dead already, but he couldn't take anymore "Alright, they went that way, through the forest. Now please let me out of this!" I think he was a little too preoccupied shouting at me to realise that the key to his shackles were within arms reach of him, or to notice that his allies were now resurrected corpses with the sole mission of eating him. Either way, his screams of being eaten alive was absolute perfection on my ears. As I venture deeper into the forest, I came across an ogre who's riddle I had to solve "Answer me this: A box without hinges, key, or lid, Yet golden treasure inside is hid." Of course I know it, an egg, but I'm not in the mood to deal with things as trivial as riddles, and although my party would like to keep this ogre alive I have no care for what happens to it. The sound of its intestines and blood sloshing on the stone ground in front of the wooden bridge made me absolutely euphoric, I can recall a time I've ever felt happier. Eventually I came across a dungeon, guarded by one of the 'good' dragons "Mortal, I believe you seek your allies, yes? To get to them, you must first give me a show of might to prove your worth, as well as answer my question" Not this again "I sense great evil from you, mortal, but that is beside the point. First, hit me as hard as you can with your strongest attack!" I went very light, I didn't want to kill this dragon just yet "Hmm. You held back great power, I am impressed. Now to see if your mind possesses similar power: I can sneak upon you, or lay before your eyes, but when I make my presence known, never the same you shall be. What am I?" Now that's a bit harder, but being as I can kill this dragon with ease I may as well humor his riddle "A parasite?" The large beast shook its head "I am afraid not, mortal. I hate to turn you away, especially when your friends are so close, but I can not allow you to enter this dun--" A simple fireball, perhaps my weakest since I was a child, tore through its chest and destroyed its heart and lungs. I collected its blood, some bones, and scales for alchemy, with this I can certainly heal my allies from any trauma they've encountered, and with my resurrection it wouldn't be too difficult to bring them back to life if I'm too late. Not a single creature in this dungeon could even get close to me, my passive spells killed them before anything else, and when I didn't allow them to get close enough to harm me they simply died the moment they touched my robe. At the end of the dungeon I came across a large throne room, with the bard from my party died to a pillar "By the gods, what have they done to you!" In a frenzy I rushed to his side "Where are the others?! Are they alright?!" He looked up at me, his wounds disappearing before my eyes "Yeah, they're just fine" With that, a sword pierced through my chest from behind, tearing my lungs, heart, and spine to shreds. It was our ranger, under an invisibility spell and using potions I made her. The knight also came out not a second later "Did you really think we didn't know you were a lich? How stupid did you think we were?!" As those words reverberated in my head, I realised my wounds weren't healing, all my mana was gone, and I felt very cold "We used those potions of yours to make something to turn you human, at least long enough for us to kill you more easily, and our bard was the one to give it to you, since its contact based and you were gripping him pretty hard" So my party was able to not only deceive me, but also kill me. I'm rather impressed "And now, lich, I shall remove your head myself!" As my head rolled on the hard stone, my final thoughts were upon that dragon's riddle. The answer, to which I discovered only now, was 'betrayal'. The end.
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	The portal sparked into life as my last movement completed its arc. You'd think that an energy portal would illuminate the oppressive darkness of the battlefield, but you'd be someone not born of hell. Anyone local would know what to expect. That dank greenness that dampens light instead of emitting it, that unmistakable void that makes hope no longer even a memory is easily recognized by anyone who's done some time in the pit. As the first lower level demons came through I was starting to feel the old twinges of bloodlust lapping at the carefully built up facade of humanity. I watched the demons shiver in excitement at the thrill of upcoming slaughter. I felt that shiver myself and I reveled in it. The gesture that started the slaughter came so naturally I didn't even notice making it. All these years of suppressing what I am. Of contstraining the inferno that is I. Limiting it to what is "human", did not make me forget anything. Instead, each action that awoke one of the parts of my true self now felt as an additional thrill. As the initial wave of demons crashed over the trolls protecting the entrance to the cave that swallowed my companions no more than an hour ago, I made another movement. The demons having felled the giant forest trolls that seemed impossibly strong to a mere human, fell back. Like well trained puppies, they waited for the command that would allow them to have some fun with the orcish inhabitants of the village that surrounded the entrance of the cave that was the only thing that mattered to me now. Asmodeth stepped through the portal first. If you've never seen a knight of hell entering a room before, you'd be forgiven for invoulntarily abandoning any pretense that what you up until that moment thought of as a meaningful life was in fact an empty existence, devoid of purpose. You would come to that realization for many reasons. Highest among them would likely be the absolute perfection of her form as a destroyer. She stands seven feet tall, unless she's feeling underappreciated, at which point she stretches herself to the full nine. All of that is muscle and venomous spikes, constructed to be the ultimate in sheer battlefield domination. She's entered battles before and emerged unscathed as the lone survivor, both sides of the battle consigned to ignominy of not being in the written histories. That's the thing about Asmodeth, she doesn't care about the sides. She does what I desire, and I didn't used to care about either side of the battle. All that mattered was the fallen. I cared now... Jared, with that jagged scar running across his face that made him look fearsome until you spent some time with him at a campfire and listened to the stories full of love, loss and longing. Ariel, of the pointed ears and the tinkling laugh. He made your heart skip a beat just looking at him, even as he sliced through the throngs of enemies we faced together throughout this past year. Ot'eth, of the Southern Forge, the hardest mage ever produced by the unique conditions of that terrible place that was designed to melt away anything that was not in the service of making the spells sing with power. The poems that she muttered under her breath were like the most beautiful perls of soul in word form. She would share them with you once you'd spent enough nights together drinking Hivish elixir. They were all in that cave. Now as Bradthfet slithered across the Portal, I finally took off the mask. As my horns came free, time paused momentarily and the world had to adjust to the horns now being part of it. A few islands far in the ocean sank to equalize the energy differential that the horns created. The knights, now lined up in an attack pattern, visibly shook. It was a shake of anticipation. They knew what was coming next. I did not make them wait. With a slight movement of the head, the horns now pointed to the cave. I roared...	His arm felt cold. A kind of freezing sensation that was not unknown to him but through many years had become unfamiliar. The chill clung to his bones as it crept up to his chest, icy fingers round his heart. With a controlled exhale he felt the discomfort lessen and shrink away before being pushed out of the palm of his hand into the corpse at his feet. An unholy light danced in the air between them, lifeless blue sparks backdropped by a dead aurora as the body trembled. It sat up abruptly. Its vacant eyes glowed in the dusklight. "I'm cold." the corpse said, her voice without affectation. Her bloodied hair clung to her pale face. She hadn't been dead long. "Why do I feel cold? Where are my boys?" The man squatted down, entering her eye-line. His tattered cloak was sodden with mud and clung to him. He felt the cold too, though he suspected not like her. "You are the innkeeper here, correct?" he said. He was tired and he spoke softly. Most people would have struggled to hear what he said, but the dead woman whipped her head round before he had finished his question. "Yes." she said abruptly. "I didn't say that. What's happened to me? That was my voice but I didn't say that. Where are my boys? Where's my husband?" despite her monotonous intonation, he could hear panic start to creep in. "A few days past, members of the Royal Guard past through here. Where did they go?" "They took the North road" she said, interrupting her growing hysteria, before descending into it once more. "Oh gods, they died didn't they? I was outside when I heard them screaming. And when I ran over, you... You killed me! I'm dead. We're dead." she began to let out this dull groan as she finished. He realised this was her attempt to scream. "When the guard left," as he cut across her the moaning stopped instantly, "did they mention any prisoners?" "Yes. They laughed about them." she did not resume screaming, instead she asked "Why did you kill us?" He paused for a moment. He was not sure if it was worth saying, she would be fully dead once more soon enough. But she had been useful. "I need to locate my companions who were captured. I knew their captors had passed through this town and I reasoned they may have rested at this Inn. And right now you are incapable of lying to me. Killing you and your family was simply quicker than risking misinformation. You were only the fourth person I had to temporarily resurrect in this settlement, so your death has proven useful." he said as he stood up. "Temporar-" her question was cut off as he snapped his fingers. The light vanished from her eyes and she slumped to floor. He adjusted the hood of his cloak and began the march north. He knew they were days ahead already, and who knows how many questions he would still have to ask before he found them.
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	In the muted light of the room, Lakme's 'Flower Duet' played. It almost made for a romantic atmosphere. Almost. "You see... Marcus... here's the thing. I'm not what you would call a good person." Marcus O'Reilly sneered up at me from the chair to which I'd tied him. When he came in the door to his palatial estate home, I'd surprised him from behind with chloroform and a rag. He struggled for a few seconds, but even a man of his size and physical fitness couldn't resist the sweet siren call of slumber under those circumstances. I'd handcuffed him to the chair, positioned him in the middle of his massive living room, and waited patiently for him to wake up. I'd already been waiting hours for him to come home, so a couple more wasn't a huge deal at this point. When he finally awoke, blinking away the confusion and disorientation, he didn't notice me at first in the muted light. But once he did, his attention snapped to me and he grinned his trademark sadistic grin. He told me I was a dead man, that I didn't even know it yet. Then he asked me just what the hell I was trying to pull off, that he had to know before I died, so he could satisfy his curiosity. I just sat there in my chair, staring at him, expressionless. What seemed like an eternity passed before he spoke again. "Well asshole? What's your game plan here? I gotta know. You better talk quick, my security will be doing their sweeps any minute now, and when they do, you're as good as dead." I blinked, then adopted a concerned expression. "Security?" "Jesus," he said smugly. "You didn't think I'd have security? Who do you think you're dealing with?" "Oh, I know you had security," I said, reaching out with one booted foot and tipping over the large Rubbermaid bin, spilling its contents over the polished hardwood floor. "I just don't think they're going to be much help, is all." Marcus blanched as he saw eight severed heads roll onto the living room floor, leaving a coagulated blood trail behind them. "Jeff put up the biggest fight, in case you were wondering. His widow should get some kind of bonus." O'Reilly's eyes slowly lifted from the decapitated heads up to meet my eyes. "You think someone won't notice there's a problem? You'll never make it out of here alive," he said, but with less bravado this time. "Someone will notice I'm missing, and they'll come to check what happened. You're as good as dead." "By the time they do," I replied flatly, "They'll find nothing but a charred skeleton of your former house. There will be nothing left for them to use to track me down. I've made sure of that." Marcus lost his cool then, and struggled violently against his handcuffs, trying to escape. In his attempts, he flopped over onto his side, knocking his head against the floor. He groaned as I moved over and lifted him back up into a sitting position. "Here's the thing, Marcus. As I mentioned, I'm not a good person. You ordered my friends captured. I want them back. So I'm going to make you a very simple deal, one that you won't want to refuse." "Fuck you," he sputtered hatefully. I walked to the wall, switching on the rest of the lights in the room for the first time. His eyes went as wide as dinner plates. "As you can see," I said coldly, "I also have your wife, two daughters and son here tonight." Behind me, the wife and children also struggled against their bonds, their muffled cries now barely audible over the classical music, which had now changed to Tchaikovsky's 'Slave March'. "I'm going to give you a choice, Marcus. You die tonight, regardless. I just can't leave you alive, it's simply too risky. But I will give you the opportunity to let your wife and kids live." I slowly walked over to them, and began caressing the hair of his wife as she frantically struggled. "You tell me where my friends are. If I find them alive and unharmed, I will release your wife and kids. They will not have to share your fate, burning and suffocating in a horrifying house fire 'accident'." I moved, now caressing his older daughter's head as she cried soundlessly. "If you refuse, I will burn this place to the ground and move on to your senior lieutenant next. I'm pretty sure he'll talk, but even if he doesn't... I have plenty of chances to get this information from someone under your employ, so don't think for one second that I'm bluffing. You aren't the only option available to me. You have no cards to play here." His eyes moved from his family to the disembodied heads of his trusted guards, then back to me. I saw the look of resignation on his face as he realized I was correct. "You promise you'll let them go?" he asked quietly. "You have my word," I replied. "They don't know who I am." "You know," Marcus said with sad amusement, "You would have made an excellent addition to my organization." I smiled, coldly. "You have no idea how right you are."	His arm felt cold. A kind of freezing sensation that was not unknown to him but through many years had become unfamiliar. The chill clung to his bones as it crept up to his chest, icy fingers round his heart. With a controlled exhale he felt the discomfort lessen and shrink away before being pushed out of the palm of his hand into the corpse at his feet. An unholy light danced in the air between them, lifeless blue sparks backdropped by a dead aurora as the body trembled. It sat up abruptly. Its vacant eyes glowed in the dusklight. "I'm cold." the corpse said, her voice without affectation. Her bloodied hair clung to her pale face. She hadn't been dead long. "Why do I feel cold? Where are my boys?" The man squatted down, entering her eye-line. His tattered cloak was sodden with mud and clung to him. He felt the cold too, though he suspected not like her. "You are the innkeeper here, correct?" he said. He was tired and he spoke softly. Most people would have struggled to hear what he said, but the dead woman whipped her head round before he had finished his question. "Yes." she said abruptly. "I didn't say that. What's happened to me? That was my voice but I didn't say that. Where are my boys? Where's my husband?" despite her monotonous intonation, he could hear panic start to creep in. "A few days past, members of the Royal Guard past through here. Where did they go?" "They took the North road" she said, interrupting her growing hysteria, before descending into it once more. "Oh gods, they died didn't they? I was outside when I heard them screaming. And when I ran over, you... You killed me! I'm dead. We're dead." she began to let out this dull groan as she finished. He realised this was her attempt to scream. "When the guard left," as he cut across her the moaning stopped instantly, "did they mention any prisoners?" "Yes. They laughed about them." she did not resume screaming, instead she asked "Why did you kill us?" He paused for a moment. He was not sure if it was worth saying, she would be fully dead once more soon enough. But she had been useful. "I need to locate my companions who were captured. I knew their captors had passed through this town and I reasoned they may have rested at this Inn. And right now you are incapable of lying to me. Killing you and your family was simply quicker than risking misinformation. You were only the fourth person I had to temporarily resurrect in this settlement, so your death has proven useful." he said as he stood up. "Temporar-" her question was cut off as he snapped his fingers. The light vanished from her eyes and she slumped to floor. He adjusted the hood of his cloak and began the march north. He knew they were days ahead already, and who knows how many questions he would still have to ask before he found them.
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	"The child, save the child." Henshaw called out to you in if rough Half-Orc voice. Lynanna left her Half-Elf form and shaped changed into her bear formand charged into the enemy, Lejus charged with her. Amun was next you, but he was healing them and holding open the portal. You could see how much this use of magic was draining him. Save the child? The child is small, even for a child, some weird smaller goblin, no one knows what it was, but you all get paid to save it. The only problem is it's still almost the size of you. You throw it on your back drop to all fours and run as fast as your scaly legs can carry you. The portal is smaller than any of your allies already. It's now or never. As you run you here Amun say "Be Safe." The portal closed as soon as you went through. You are not talkative, you are not a caregiver, and now you have a child of an unknown species to take care of. Also, where are you? Okay, it looks you are on your world. Do you know this place? If only you were better at directions. In the distance you see a town, Stoneridge. It's where you met your friends. It's where you took this stupid job. All you want is to get strong enough to kill the dragon who leads your Kobold tribe. But these were the only people who have tolerated you. On the road you see a supply wagon coming from town. You block their path. They ask you to move. You motion for them to turn around. When it appeared that they were going to go around you started generating electricity. Then you had a ride back to town. After getting off the wagon you head toward town. The guards look at peculiar creature strapped to your back. It's the most attention they've paid to you since you joined your friends. Then you hear the people from the wagon talking to the guards. You scurry into town and back to the Guildhall. They seemed surprised to see you, and ask where the rest of the party is. They then ask you to hand over the child. You stand to your proud three foot height in a posture that says no. One member comes towards you. They get jolted with electricity for their trouble. They are upset at you. You just want help getting your friends back then they can have the kid. You jolt two more as they move to attack you. You won't be able to dodge the third. You are outside. How? Why? You don't know. But the door to the Guildhall is in front of you. You hear voices above you and you see a portal, into the Guildhall. It's coming from your back. The baby. It has powerful magic, maybe it can get you back to your friends. Then you see a small partol of guards, one from the entrance to the town is with them. They have spotted you. You hate walking, you hate running, it's why you normally traveled in Henshaw's bag. You especially hate running with an unknown magic child on you back. Running through the crowd, trying not to get trampled. You know all the buildings but not where to go. The downside to not walking anywhere yourself. There's less of a crowd this way so you run that way, it's unfamiliar. Then you realize you are headed towards the manor. Guards in front of the manor, guards chasing behind you. You create a wall of electricity on top the guards in front of you. They all fo down. You open the manor door and quickly shut it and lock it behind you. Done. There are two guards looking at you puzzled. They have guards inside too? The one guard tells you to hold, while the other opens the door, the two groups of guards, and the members of the guild are outside. You take the child off your back. They are circling you, telling you to put the child down. It's so hard to talk common. "Back! Friends!" You say to the child. Hands are going for you and more hands are reaching for the child. This time you see the floor beneath you open up. So do the guards and guild members. It opens beneath everyone. Your back. Where your friends were. Creatures around you are startled. But then they start attacking the guards. The guild and the guards fight back. You run, looking for your friends. Only Henshaw remains standing, he's guarding your wounded friends. You jolt your way to him. You hold up the child, "Take! Back!" you growl. The six of you are back outside town. You go into everyone's bag, take out a potion and give it to them. It seems with them being hurt, and all the fighting, no one saw all the people you brought with you. They are asking a lot of questions. Maybe you should have left them. Lyanna starts to head to Stoneridge. "No! They no pay, we keep." you growl as you pat the child.	His arm felt cold. A kind of freezing sensation that was not unknown to him but through many years had become unfamiliar. The chill clung to his bones as it crept up to his chest, icy fingers round his heart. With a controlled exhale he felt the discomfort lessen and shrink away before being pushed out of the palm of his hand into the corpse at his feet. An unholy light danced in the air between them, lifeless blue sparks backdropped by a dead aurora as the body trembled. It sat up abruptly. Its vacant eyes glowed in the dusklight. "I'm cold." the corpse said, her voice without affectation. Her bloodied hair clung to her pale face. She hadn't been dead long. "Why do I feel cold? Where are my boys?" The man squatted down, entering her eye-line. His tattered cloak was sodden with mud and clung to him. He felt the cold too, though he suspected not like her. "You are the innkeeper here, correct?" he said. He was tired and he spoke softly. Most people would have struggled to hear what he said, but the dead woman whipped her head round before he had finished his question. "Yes." she said abruptly. "I didn't say that. What's happened to me? That was my voice but I didn't say that. Where are my boys? Where's my husband?" despite her monotonous intonation, he could hear panic start to creep in. "A few days past, members of the Royal Guard past through here. Where did they go?" "They took the North road" she said, interrupting her growing hysteria, before descending into it once more. "Oh gods, they died didn't they? I was outside when I heard them screaming. And when I ran over, you... You killed me! I'm dead. We're dead." she began to let out this dull groan as she finished. He realised this was her attempt to scream. "When the guard left," as he cut across her the moaning stopped instantly, "did they mention any prisoners?" "Yes. They laughed about them." she did not resume screaming, instead she asked "Why did you kill us?" He paused for a moment. He was not sure if it was worth saying, she would be fully dead once more soon enough. But she had been useful. "I need to locate my companions who were captured. I knew their captors had passed through this town and I reasoned they may have rested at this Inn. And right now you are incapable of lying to me. Killing you and your family was simply quicker than risking misinformation. You were only the fourth person I had to temporarily resurrect in this settlement, so your death has proven useful." he said as he stood up. "Temporar-" her question was cut off as he snapped his fingers. The light vanished from her eyes and she slumped to floor. He adjusted the hood of his cloak and began the march north. He knew they were days ahead already, and who knows how many questions he would still have to ask before he found them.
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	On some level, I probably care about them. Gods, I need to stop. They don't matter to me. It doesn't matter who they are. They are objectively useful to me. They've helped me achieve my goals and that's all that matters. They're good fighters and I like to have them around in a pinch. These thoughts had been plagueing me for days. I know who I am. I'm a monster. I've killed bad men for crossing me, and better men for nothing. That is, until I started traveling with them. Târz was a decent orc. Big and brutish as he looked with his bare chest and double axes, he was actually a very thoughtful and intelligent creature. Funny. I guess my prejudices made me think he'd be a bit more like me when he recruited me to go with him and two other travelers to dispatch a gang of bandits. I figured it was just a good day's slaughter for a good days pay, but they actually cared enough to save the hostages and slaves. I'd never seen that before. It was Aelindriel who first mentioned saving them. Aelindriel? Aelindariel? Gods, I hate elvish names. Aelindel, that's it! Regardless, this elf actually went out of his way, damn near taking a bolt to the chest, just to save one slave. Wasn't a particularly useful maneuver. Could've gotten him killed, and it wasn't like the slave could fight. He was only a kid. I've still, to this very day, never seen someone take as many hits and keep getting up as he did that day. An axe wound to the shoulder didn't even stop him from carrying that kid back to the nearest town. Emotional, Elvish bastard. Probably wrote another one of his gods-damned poems about it. Still. I hope I get to hear one or two of them again. Well, I'd put up with hearing it if it meant I had his sword by my side. So I keep telling myself. I'm going to get them back. Whatever it takes. Gods damn that treacherous bastard. After a year of sticking around with these two and myself, the one human has to go and mess everything up. We'd traveled the plains of the west, the northern mountains where I grew up, and the lava fields to the south and shared many a feast over spoils from victory. I miss those times. It was just as profitable as being a bandit, and I never had to skip town over some band of "heroes" coming after me. Now look at me. My horse is, quite literally, covered in the blood of my enemies. I need to find a river or a lake or something. I can't let them zee me like this. Hell, I've got flesh in my teeth. They'd never let it fly that I tortured someone to find out where they were. On top of that, even I think that taking a chunk out of his calf might've been too far. There's no time for those thoughts now, though. I'll come to terms with who and what I am later. For now, I've got two heroes to save, a plot to expose, and a newly crowned prince to kill. Gods, I hope they never found out what I did to save them. I hope they never find out what I'm going to do. Edit: yo this is the first time I've gotten upvotes in this sub, I love you guys lmao	His arm felt cold. A kind of freezing sensation that was not unknown to him but through many years had become unfamiliar. The chill clung to his bones as it crept up to his chest, icy fingers round his heart. With a controlled exhale he felt the discomfort lessen and shrink away before being pushed out of the palm of his hand into the corpse at his feet. An unholy light danced in the air between them, lifeless blue sparks backdropped by a dead aurora as the body trembled. It sat up abruptly. Its vacant eyes glowed in the dusklight. "I'm cold." the corpse said, her voice without affectation. Her bloodied hair clung to her pale face. She hadn't been dead long. "Why do I feel cold? Where are my boys?" The man squatted down, entering her eye-line. His tattered cloak was sodden with mud and clung to him. He felt the cold too, though he suspected not like her. "You are the innkeeper here, correct?" he said. He was tired and he spoke softly. Most people would have struggled to hear what he said, but the dead woman whipped her head round before he had finished his question. "Yes." she said abruptly. "I didn't say that. What's happened to me? That was my voice but I didn't say that. Where are my boys? Where's my husband?" despite her monotonous intonation, he could hear panic start to creep in. "A few days past, members of the Royal Guard past through here. Where did they go?" "They took the North road" she said, interrupting her growing hysteria, before descending into it once more. "Oh gods, they died didn't they? I was outside when I heard them screaming. And when I ran over, you... You killed me! I'm dead. We're dead." she began to let out this dull groan as she finished. He realised this was her attempt to scream. "When the guard left," as he cut across her the moaning stopped instantly, "did they mention any prisoners?" "Yes. They laughed about them." she did not resume screaming, instead she asked "Why did you kill us?" He paused for a moment. He was not sure if it was worth saying, she would be fully dead once more soon enough. But she had been useful. "I need to locate my companions who were captured. I knew their captors had passed through this town and I reasoned they may have rested at this Inn. And right now you are incapable of lying to me. Killing you and your family was simply quicker than risking misinformation. You were only the fourth person I had to temporarily resurrect in this settlement, so your death has proven useful." he said as he stood up. "Temporar-" her question was cut off as he snapped his fingers. The light vanished from her eyes and she slumped to floor. He adjusted the hood of his cloak and began the march north. He knew they were days ahead already, and who knows how many questions he would still have to ask before he found them.
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	"Steel City Stalwarts, unite!" Comet Lad flew in and landed on Sergeant Static's right side. Nightshade Assassin swung down on one of her vines. Silver Cypher's armor hissed and clicked as the cooling systems compensated for the afterburners he'd used to get here. The Gray Gorrilla took the rear, his massive body throwing a shade over all of them. The team all looked ready to take on the entire force of Eric Nasty's henchman, collectively and individually. Except for one. Coming standing behind one of the Gorrilla's legs was Tigerlily, her uniform barely dusty from the fighting. She looked, as she always did, just a little like she was about to run. The Sergeant didn't seem to notice her fear. His eyes were on the tactical situation as his mind ran through strategies at lightning speed. He said, "There's no way we can find the Mayor in time as a group. We need to split up. Gray G, you clear this floor and start working up. Nightshade, you and me work our way down to the parking garage. Comet, start on the roof and meet Gray G in the middle. Cypher, hack into their cameras and find the mayor and find that bomb!" As their leader lifted Static Staff to give the call to action, Tigerlily said, "What do you need me to do boss?" Sergeant turned around and said, "Just stay here. Hold up in the courtroom over there. We'll bring the wounded to you. Heal them, then get them out. Can you handle that." The tiny lass said, "Yes sir! I won't let you down!" Sergeant Static reached out and ruffled her hair affectionately. "That's my girl. Everyone, to the rescue!" They all shouted in unison, "To the rescue!" They flew away. The Sergeant looked over his shoulder and made sure that Tigerlily made it to the courtroom where she'd wait. When they got to the door to the stairs, Nightshade Princess said, "You have to stop treating her like a kid. She's one of us. She's a superhero." Sergeant said, "She's a kid who can heal people. I'm tired of sending kids into battle, Shade." The princess of poisonous plants rolled her eyes, which contrasted with the proud smile. In the courtroom, though, Tigerlily was not smiling. Eric Nasty and fifteen of his Nastymen were standing, their weapons drawn. Eric stood over the bomb, his hands on the panel to enter the password, the last step to arming it. When he saw the white-clad healer, he drew his pistol and pointed at her. "Look what we got here! The mascot!" Tigerlily said, "You'll never defeat the Stalwarts! Just give up!" Eric stood, laughing. "Will I? And how will they defeat me, brat, without their powers?" She shook her head. "What?" Eric pointed to the bomb. "You super dummy's are all the same. I don't just mean that sickening sense of self righteousness. I mean that I figured it out. Every superhero, every one I could get a DNA sample for, you all derive your power from the same source. Would you like to know what it is? Get ready... it's aliens." The girl balled up her fists, "You're crazy." "No, I'm brilliant. I may not fly or shoot lightning or juggle sedans, but I have a power. I've got a mind sharp enough to split atoms. I also have money and I paid a lot for the remains of a very special ship recently brought up from the ocean. Atlantis was real! Aliens are real! The great pulse that turned people into superfreaks came from their technology. In a few minutes, I'm going to demosntrate all that, and unless you're wearing a countermeasure charm, like I am, say goodbye to your abilities and hello to the reign of Nasty!" Eric cackled. His men laughed and raised their blasters. And then one exploded. The room went dead. Tigerlily wasn't by the door anymore. She was standing within arms reach of where the ex-Nastyman had stood, his body now a spray of red chunks and foul smells. Eric said, "What the...?" Tigerlilly's body moved so fast that all you could see was a white blur. Her hands fell on two more. They detonated, the same way that their teammate had. She said, "No." Eric screamed, "Fire!" Tigerlily jumped as numerous bolts of light scorched the floor. She landed on the shoulders of another Nastyman. She twisted his head in a circle. Before he could fall, she leapt to another; his comrades cut him down trying to shoot her, along with the two on either side of him. Eric stopped firing. He dove for the bomb. Tigerlilly did a backflip and landed on ballet point on the top of another henchman's head. He splattered downward, his splattering like it had been dropped from the 50th floor. Tigerlilly's eyes were glass marbles, her mouth a small and straight line. She glided from soldier to soldier, each one either being ended with a quick and efficent blow or turned to vapor. Eric tapped out the password, but nerves and shaking fingers got him a "DENIED" on the screen. He tried it again. Same result. He tried to ignore the screams of his personal guard as they died all around him. "C'mon, c'mon... oh, crap that's the wrong password." He started to type in the right one, but he found he did not have a hand. He stared at the stump, weaping blood, and screamed. He looked up and saw tigerlilly, holding his hand like it was attached to an invisible crossing guard. "You don't get to speak about Atlantis," she said. "They were kind people, before the earthquake. They showed my people the first kindness we'd seen in a thousand worlds. That is, except for one. He was like you." Tigerlilly dropped the hand. Behind her, Eric could see a few corpses, but mostly he saw human sized stains. Somehow, the girl's clothes were still pristine. "He built weapons. We shared our tech at first. But then we saw what your kind might do with with it. We saw the darkness in your hearts, only too late. It sank the greatest city in your short history into the ocean. Your kind and my kind were both lost, save for a very few. We made a promise that day, one you're trying to undo." "Get away from me!" Eric shouted, trying to tie his belt around his arm stump. "For ten thousand years, I've given powers to your people. Manipulating your flesh is so easy. Eric stammered, "You... you what? But I-" "So many use them well. A few, not so much. Either way, it keeps you fighting amongst yourselves. The few of great power in an internal struggle while the rest of the world is content to wait and see what you do. "I will not see you reveal us. I will not see you try to undo ten millenia of guidance and nurturing. You, Eric, are the worst of your kind. While I will do anything it takes to see that your infant race not only remaisn thinking you're the greatest, fiercest, most dangerous creatures in the universe, but that you never advance so far that find out what really holds that title. Lucky for you that it was us, their little cousins that found you. "Now die." The doors burst open. The Sergeant and Nightshade were first. Silver Cypher flew in and said, "I knew it! This room was the only one with the cameras blocked out it had to be here!" The Sargeant yelled, "Where's Tigerlily?" A small voice said, "Here." They all turned and found her hugging her knees on the floor. Nightshade dashed, wrapping her leafy arms around the girl like a mother. "Oh T.L., did they hurt you?" The girl shook her head. "I found them like this. I think the bomb backfired." Sargeant Static said, "We should have found it faster." Cypher said, "It's okay. We all missed it." The Sargeant looked around the room. "Doesn't matter now. Let's get Tigerlilly and ourselves the hell out of here." Nightshade covered the girl's ears. "Language!" Tigerlilly giggled. "It's okay, Shade. I'm a big girl. I can take it."	His arm felt cold. A kind of freezing sensation that was not unknown to him but through many years had become unfamiliar. The chill clung to his bones as it crept up to his chest, icy fingers round his heart. With a controlled exhale he felt the discomfort lessen and shrink away before being pushed out of the palm of his hand into the corpse at his feet. An unholy light danced in the air between them, lifeless blue sparks backdropped by a dead aurora as the body trembled. It sat up abruptly. Its vacant eyes glowed in the dusklight. "I'm cold." the corpse said, her voice without affectation. Her bloodied hair clung to her pale face. She hadn't been dead long. "Why do I feel cold? Where are my boys?" The man squatted down, entering her eye-line. His tattered cloak was sodden with mud and clung to him. He felt the cold too, though he suspected not like her. "You are the innkeeper here, correct?" he said. He was tired and he spoke softly. Most people would have struggled to hear what he said, but the dead woman whipped her head round before he had finished his question. "Yes." she said abruptly. "I didn't say that. What's happened to me? That was my voice but I didn't say that. Where are my boys? Where's my husband?" despite her monotonous intonation, he could hear panic start to creep in. "A few days past, members of the Royal Guard past through here. Where did they go?" "They took the North road" she said, interrupting her growing hysteria, before descending into it once more. "Oh gods, they died didn't they? I was outside when I heard them screaming. And when I ran over, you... You killed me! I'm dead. We're dead." she began to let out this dull groan as she finished. He realised this was her attempt to scream. "When the guard left," as he cut across her the moaning stopped instantly, "did they mention any prisoners?" "Yes. They laughed about them." she did not resume screaming, instead she asked "Why did you kill us?" He paused for a moment. He was not sure if it was worth saying, she would be fully dead once more soon enough. But she had been useful. "I need to locate my companions who were captured. I knew their captors had passed through this town and I reasoned they may have rested at this Inn. And right now you are incapable of lying to me. Killing you and your family was simply quicker than risking misinformation. You were only the fourth person I had to temporarily resurrect in this settlement, so your death has proven useful." he said as he stood up. "Temporar-" her question was cut off as he snapped his fingers. The light vanished from her eyes and she slumped to floor. He adjusted the hood of his cloak and began the march north. He knew they were days ahead already, and who knows how many questions he would still have to ask before he found them.
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	I am a necromancer. My party knows this. Skorndrick Gristle, the Lost, at your service. In fact, the way I've worked myself out, my spells and my fighting capabilities, I'm probably the strongest member of our party. Do any of them suspect this? No. As far as they're concerned, I'm a good person who just.... helps the dead ease into the afterlife. And if that means telling them the dead wish to help, then that's what I've done. They've even got a joke excuse for me and my enchanted shovel- it's for digging "trenches". One time I bullshitted some suspicious librarians that didn't want to loan me a necromancy book with "The dead know the truth. There is meaning behind their existence. We all die, it doesn't have to be a bad thing. They need help, and I'm here for them." Another time I told a guard I was resurrecting a dead man because he'd requested being allowed to help protect the town he'd so loved in life. That was a lie, as well. And my party believed me. Of course they did. Naturally they've had their suspicions, of course. They've even been suspicious of our Oathbreaker Paladin, but he's a paladin so he can't be that suspicious. And to help that, I've always been cautious around them. Always. I've never had a reason to make them question me, more or less. Doing bad things for the right reasons is still doing something with good intentions for the benefit of more than just yourself. I've always told myself they didn't need to see the side of me that was kicked out of the dwarven cities for my actions, that they didn't deserve to experience what those who knew me back at home did. Until now. Until that awful man took them and threatened them and hurt them and hid them away. I wasn't there with them when they need me to be. I was away, teasing bones out of the teeth of the dragon I had raised from the grave with the Oathbreaker. Each time Heskan, my dragon, consumes a living being, he becomes a little more alive, a little less skeletal, flesh and sinew regenerating into place from rotting tendrils of death magic I amplified with the Oathbreaker to bring back. We'd been recovering in the privacy of a forest grove outside of the city when it happened, and I didn't find out until the next day. I always sleep with Heskan- his ribcage has hammocks of burlap for our stuff, and it's free real estate, so why not? Some of our party jokes he's the "Bone Bus", and I'll be the first to admit that's what he's mostly for. But now that man- the general of this shit kingdom's tiny, half-assed army- has my friends. He's locked them up, lied and said they were invaders or demons or spies or whatever nonsense befit each of them in his mind. All so he could power trip over visitors. And I will not permit that. Heskan and I are outside of a three hundred year old graveyard that's housed every dead member of this city since its founding, all closely buried together to save space. That's quite a bit of fodder for me to abuse, and Heskan agrees. It won't take me long, most of the night maybe, but missing a night's worth of sleep in exchange for an undying army is well worth the cost to save my party. They're good people. And they deserve me.	His arm felt cold. A kind of freezing sensation that was not unknown to him but through many years had become unfamiliar. The chill clung to his bones as it crept up to his chest, icy fingers round his heart. With a controlled exhale he felt the discomfort lessen and shrink away before being pushed out of the palm of his hand into the corpse at his feet. An unholy light danced in the air between them, lifeless blue sparks backdropped by a dead aurora as the body trembled. It sat up abruptly. Its vacant eyes glowed in the dusklight. "I'm cold." the corpse said, her voice without affectation. Her bloodied hair clung to her pale face. She hadn't been dead long. "Why do I feel cold? Where are my boys?" The man squatted down, entering her eye-line. His tattered cloak was sodden with mud and clung to him. He felt the cold too, though he suspected not like her. "You are the innkeeper here, correct?" he said. He was tired and he spoke softly. Most people would have struggled to hear what he said, but the dead woman whipped her head round before he had finished his question. "Yes." she said abruptly. "I didn't say that. What's happened to me? That was my voice but I didn't say that. Where are my boys? Where's my husband?" despite her monotonous intonation, he could hear panic start to creep in. "A few days past, members of the Royal Guard past through here. Where did they go?" "They took the North road" she said, interrupting her growing hysteria, before descending into it once more. "Oh gods, they died didn't they? I was outside when I heard them screaming. And when I ran over, you... You killed me! I'm dead. We're dead." she began to let out this dull groan as she finished. He realised this was her attempt to scream. "When the guard left," as he cut across her the moaning stopped instantly, "did they mention any prisoners?" "Yes. They laughed about them." she did not resume screaming, instead she asked "Why did you kill us?" He paused for a moment. He was not sure if it was worth saying, she would be fully dead once more soon enough. But she had been useful. "I need to locate my companions who were captured. I knew their captors had passed through this town and I reasoned they may have rested at this Inn. And right now you are incapable of lying to me. Killing you and your family was simply quicker than risking misinformation. You were only the fourth person I had to temporarily resurrect in this settlement, so your death has proven useful." he said as he stood up. "Temporar-" her question was cut off as he snapped his fingers. The light vanished from her eyes and she slumped to floor. He adjusted the hood of his cloak and began the march north. He knew they were days ahead already, and who knows how many questions he would still have to ask before he found them.
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	In the muted light of the room, Lakme's 'Flower Duet' played. It almost made for a romantic atmosphere. Almost. "You see... Marcus... here's the thing. I'm not what you would call a good person." Marcus O'Reilly sneered up at me from the chair to which I'd tied him. When he came in the door to his palatial estate home, I'd surprised him from behind with chloroform and a rag. He struggled for a few seconds, but even a man of his size and physical fitness couldn't resist the sweet siren call of slumber under those circumstances. I'd handcuffed him to the chair, positioned him in the middle of his massive living room, and waited patiently for him to wake up. I'd already been waiting hours for him to come home, so a couple more wasn't a huge deal at this point. When he finally awoke, blinking away the confusion and disorientation, he didn't notice me at first in the muted light. But once he did, his attention snapped to me and he grinned his trademark sadistic grin. He told me I was a dead man, that I didn't even know it yet. Then he asked me just what the hell I was trying to pull off, that he had to know before I died, so he could satisfy his curiosity. I just sat there in my chair, staring at him, expressionless. What seemed like an eternity passed before he spoke again. "Well asshole? What's your game plan here? I gotta know. You better talk quick, my security will be doing their sweeps any minute now, and when they do, you're as good as dead." I blinked, then adopted a concerned expression. "Security?" "Jesus," he said smugly. "You didn't think I'd have security? Who do you think you're dealing with?" "Oh, I know you had security," I said, reaching out with one booted foot and tipping over the large Rubbermaid bin, spilling its contents over the polished hardwood floor. "I just don't think they're going to be much help, is all." Marcus blanched as he saw eight severed heads roll onto the living room floor, leaving a coagulated blood trail behind them. "Jeff put up the biggest fight, in case you were wondering. His widow should get some kind of bonus." O'Reilly's eyes slowly lifted from the decapitated heads up to meet my eyes. "You think someone won't notice there's a problem? You'll never make it out of here alive," he said, but with less bravado this time. "Someone will notice I'm missing, and they'll come to check what happened. You're as good as dead." "By the time they do," I replied flatly, "They'll find nothing but a charred skeleton of your former house. There will be nothing left for them to use to track me down. I've made sure of that." Marcus lost his cool then, and struggled violently against his handcuffs, trying to escape. In his attempts, he flopped over onto his side, knocking his head against the floor. He groaned as I moved over and lifted him back up into a sitting position. "Here's the thing, Marcus. As I mentioned, I'm not a good person. You ordered my friends captured. I want them back. So I'm going to make you a very simple deal, one that you won't want to refuse." "Fuck you," he sputtered hatefully. I walked to the wall, switching on the rest of the lights in the room for the first time. His eyes went as wide as dinner plates. "As you can see," I said coldly, "I also have your wife, two daughters and son here tonight." Behind me, the wife and children also struggled against their bonds, their muffled cries now barely audible over the classical music, which had now changed to Tchaikovsky's 'Slave March'. "I'm going to give you a choice, Marcus. You die tonight, regardless. I just can't leave you alive, it's simply too risky. But I will give you the opportunity to let your wife and kids live." I slowly walked over to them, and began caressing the hair of his wife as she frantically struggled. "You tell me where my friends are. If I find them alive and unharmed, I will release your wife and kids. They will not have to share your fate, burning and suffocating in a horrifying house fire 'accident'." I moved, now caressing his older daughter's head as she cried soundlessly. "If you refuse, I will burn this place to the ground and move on to your senior lieutenant next. I'm pretty sure he'll talk, but even if he doesn't... I have plenty of chances to get this information from someone under your employ, so don't think for one second that I'm bluffing. You aren't the only option available to me. You have no cards to play here." His eyes moved from his family to the disembodied heads of his trusted guards, then back to me. I saw the look of resignation on his face as he realized I was correct. "You promise you'll let them go?" he asked quietly. "You have my word," I replied. "They don't know who I am." "You know," Marcus said with sad amusement, "You would have made an excellent addition to my organization." I smiled, coldly. "You have no idea how right you are."	The big man in red plunged his hand like a blade between the fourth and fifth rib of the man under him. “Your buddies are all dead,” he rasped, his throat raw from berserker rage. “Tell me where my friends are and I’ll let you live.” His leather-clad fist tightened and the thug moaned. “Don’t tell and I’ll eat your heart in front of you before you can die.” He smiled, teeth white against the blood splashed against his face and beard. “And I’m hungry.” The thug babbled an answer and was dropped aside as the big man turned to go. He had almost reached the door when the thug gasped, “They’re just reindeer, man!” The big man in red turned slowly, menacingly, back to the thug. Then he smiled, so warmly that for a moment the thug lost all fear. But when he looked into the big man’s eyes, his heart fell as he saw his end.
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	"The child, save the child." Henshaw called out to you in if rough Half-Orc voice. Lynanna left her Half-Elf form and shaped changed into her bear formand charged into the enemy, Lejus charged with her. Amun was next you, but he was healing them and holding open the portal. You could see how much this use of magic was draining him. Save the child? The child is small, even for a child, some weird smaller goblin, no one knows what it was, but you all get paid to save it. The only problem is it's still almost the size of you. You throw it on your back drop to all fours and run as fast as your scaly legs can carry you. The portal is smaller than any of your allies already. It's now or never. As you run you here Amun say "Be Safe." The portal closed as soon as you went through. You are not talkative, you are not a caregiver, and now you have a child of an unknown species to take care of. Also, where are you? Okay, it looks you are on your world. Do you know this place? If only you were better at directions. In the distance you see a town, Stoneridge. It's where you met your friends. It's where you took this stupid job. All you want is to get strong enough to kill the dragon who leads your Kobold tribe. But these were the only people who have tolerated you. On the road you see a supply wagon coming from town. You block their path. They ask you to move. You motion for them to turn around. When it appeared that they were going to go around you started generating electricity. Then you had a ride back to town. After getting off the wagon you head toward town. The guards look at peculiar creature strapped to your back. It's the most attention they've paid to you since you joined your friends. Then you hear the people from the wagon talking to the guards. You scurry into town and back to the Guildhall. They seemed surprised to see you, and ask where the rest of the party is. They then ask you to hand over the child. You stand to your proud three foot height in a posture that says no. One member comes towards you. They get jolted with electricity for their trouble. They are upset at you. You just want help getting your friends back then they can have the kid. You jolt two more as they move to attack you. You won't be able to dodge the third. You are outside. How? Why? You don't know. But the door to the Guildhall is in front of you. You hear voices above you and you see a portal, into the Guildhall. It's coming from your back. The baby. It has powerful magic, maybe it can get you back to your friends. Then you see a small partol of guards, one from the entrance to the town is with them. They have spotted you. You hate walking, you hate running, it's why you normally traveled in Henshaw's bag. You especially hate running with an unknown magic child on you back. Running through the crowd, trying not to get trampled. You know all the buildings but not where to go. The downside to not walking anywhere yourself. There's less of a crowd this way so you run that way, it's unfamiliar. Then you realize you are headed towards the manor. Guards in front of the manor, guards chasing behind you. You create a wall of electricity on top the guards in front of you. They all fo down. You open the manor door and quickly shut it and lock it behind you. Done. There are two guards looking at you puzzled. They have guards inside too? The one guard tells you to hold, while the other opens the door, the two groups of guards, and the members of the guild are outside. You take the child off your back. They are circling you, telling you to put the child down. It's so hard to talk common. "Back! Friends!" You say to the child. Hands are going for you and more hands are reaching for the child. This time you see the floor beneath you open up. So do the guards and guild members. It opens beneath everyone. Your back. Where your friends were. Creatures around you are startled. But then they start attacking the guards. The guild and the guards fight back. You run, looking for your friends. Only Henshaw remains standing, he's guarding your wounded friends. You jolt your way to him. You hold up the child, "Take! Back!" you growl. The six of you are back outside town. You go into everyone's bag, take out a potion and give it to them. It seems with them being hurt, and all the fighting, no one saw all the people you brought with you. They are asking a lot of questions. Maybe you should have left them. Lyanna starts to head to Stoneridge. "No! They no pay, we keep." you growl as you pat the child.	The big man in red plunged his hand like a blade between the fourth and fifth rib of the man under him. “Your buddies are all dead,” he rasped, his throat raw from berserker rage. “Tell me where my friends are and I’ll let you live.” His leather-clad fist tightened and the thug moaned. “Don’t tell and I’ll eat your heart in front of you before you can die.” He smiled, teeth white against the blood splashed against his face and beard. “And I’m hungry.” The thug babbled an answer and was dropped aside as the big man turned to go. He had almost reached the door when the thug gasped, “They’re just reindeer, man!” The big man in red turned slowly, menacingly, back to the thug. Then he smiled, so warmly that for a moment the thug lost all fear. But when he looked into the big man’s eyes, his heart fell as he saw his end.
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	On some level, I probably care about them. Gods, I need to stop. They don't matter to me. It doesn't matter who they are. They are objectively useful to me. They've helped me achieve my goals and that's all that matters. They're good fighters and I like to have them around in a pinch. These thoughts had been plagueing me for days. I know who I am. I'm a monster. I've killed bad men for crossing me, and better men for nothing. That is, until I started traveling with them. Târz was a decent orc. Big and brutish as he looked with his bare chest and double axes, he was actually a very thoughtful and intelligent creature. Funny. I guess my prejudices made me think he'd be a bit more like me when he recruited me to go with him and two other travelers to dispatch a gang of bandits. I figured it was just a good day's slaughter for a good days pay, but they actually cared enough to save the hostages and slaves. I'd never seen that before. It was Aelindriel who first mentioned saving them. Aelindriel? Aelindariel? Gods, I hate elvish names. Aelindel, that's it! Regardless, this elf actually went out of his way, damn near taking a bolt to the chest, just to save one slave. Wasn't a particularly useful maneuver. Could've gotten him killed, and it wasn't like the slave could fight. He was only a kid. I've still, to this very day, never seen someone take as many hits and keep getting up as he did that day. An axe wound to the shoulder didn't even stop him from carrying that kid back to the nearest town. Emotional, Elvish bastard. Probably wrote another one of his gods-damned poems about it. Still. I hope I get to hear one or two of them again. Well, I'd put up with hearing it if it meant I had his sword by my side. So I keep telling myself. I'm going to get them back. Whatever it takes. Gods damn that treacherous bastard. After a year of sticking around with these two and myself, the one human has to go and mess everything up. We'd traveled the plains of the west, the northern mountains where I grew up, and the lava fields to the south and shared many a feast over spoils from victory. I miss those times. It was just as profitable as being a bandit, and I never had to skip town over some band of "heroes" coming after me. Now look at me. My horse is, quite literally, covered in the blood of my enemies. I need to find a river or a lake or something. I can't let them zee me like this. Hell, I've got flesh in my teeth. They'd never let it fly that I tortured someone to find out where they were. On top of that, even I think that taking a chunk out of his calf might've been too far. There's no time for those thoughts now, though. I'll come to terms with who and what I am later. For now, I've got two heroes to save, a plot to expose, and a newly crowned prince to kill. Gods, I hope they never found out what I did to save them. I hope they never find out what I'm going to do. Edit: yo this is the first time I've gotten upvotes in this sub, I love you guys lmao	The big man in red plunged his hand like a blade between the fourth and fifth rib of the man under him. “Your buddies are all dead,” he rasped, his throat raw from berserker rage. “Tell me where my friends are and I’ll let you live.” His leather-clad fist tightened and the thug moaned. “Don’t tell and I’ll eat your heart in front of you before you can die.” He smiled, teeth white against the blood splashed against his face and beard. “And I’m hungry.” The thug babbled an answer and was dropped aside as the big man turned to go. He had almost reached the door when the thug gasped, “They’re just reindeer, man!” The big man in red turned slowly, menacingly, back to the thug. Then he smiled, so warmly that for a moment the thug lost all fear. But when he looked into the big man’s eyes, his heart fell as he saw his end.
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	"Steel City Stalwarts, unite!" Comet Lad flew in and landed on Sergeant Static's right side. Nightshade Assassin swung down on one of her vines. Silver Cypher's armor hissed and clicked as the cooling systems compensated for the afterburners he'd used to get here. The Gray Gorrilla took the rear, his massive body throwing a shade over all of them. The team all looked ready to take on the entire force of Eric Nasty's henchman, collectively and individually. Except for one. Coming standing behind one of the Gorrilla's legs was Tigerlily, her uniform barely dusty from the fighting. She looked, as she always did, just a little like she was about to run. The Sergeant didn't seem to notice her fear. His eyes were on the tactical situation as his mind ran through strategies at lightning speed. He said, "There's no way we can find the Mayor in time as a group. We need to split up. Gray G, you clear this floor and start working up. Nightshade, you and me work our way down to the parking garage. Comet, start on the roof and meet Gray G in the middle. Cypher, hack into their cameras and find the mayor and find that bomb!" As their leader lifted Static Staff to give the call to action, Tigerlily said, "What do you need me to do boss?" Sergeant turned around and said, "Just stay here. Hold up in the courtroom over there. We'll bring the wounded to you. Heal them, then get them out. Can you handle that." The tiny lass said, "Yes sir! I won't let you down!" Sergeant Static reached out and ruffled her hair affectionately. "That's my girl. Everyone, to the rescue!" They all shouted in unison, "To the rescue!" They flew away. The Sergeant looked over his shoulder and made sure that Tigerlily made it to the courtroom where she'd wait. When they got to the door to the stairs, Nightshade Princess said, "You have to stop treating her like a kid. She's one of us. She's a superhero." Sergeant said, "She's a kid who can heal people. I'm tired of sending kids into battle, Shade." The princess of poisonous plants rolled her eyes, which contrasted with the proud smile. In the courtroom, though, Tigerlily was not smiling. Eric Nasty and fifteen of his Nastymen were standing, their weapons drawn. Eric stood over the bomb, his hands on the panel to enter the password, the last step to arming it. When he saw the white-clad healer, he drew his pistol and pointed at her. "Look what we got here! The mascot!" Tigerlily said, "You'll never defeat the Stalwarts! Just give up!" Eric stood, laughing. "Will I? And how will they defeat me, brat, without their powers?" She shook her head. "What?" Eric pointed to the bomb. "You super dummy's are all the same. I don't just mean that sickening sense of self righteousness. I mean that I figured it out. Every superhero, every one I could get a DNA sample for, you all derive your power from the same source. Would you like to know what it is? Get ready... it's aliens." The girl balled up her fists, "You're crazy." "No, I'm brilliant. I may not fly or shoot lightning or juggle sedans, but I have a power. I've got a mind sharp enough to split atoms. I also have money and I paid a lot for the remains of a very special ship recently brought up from the ocean. Atlantis was real! Aliens are real! The great pulse that turned people into superfreaks came from their technology. In a few minutes, I'm going to demosntrate all that, and unless you're wearing a countermeasure charm, like I am, say goodbye to your abilities and hello to the reign of Nasty!" Eric cackled. His men laughed and raised their blasters. And then one exploded. The room went dead. Tigerlily wasn't by the door anymore. She was standing within arms reach of where the ex-Nastyman had stood, his body now a spray of red chunks and foul smells. Eric said, "What the...?" Tigerlilly's body moved so fast that all you could see was a white blur. Her hands fell on two more. They detonated, the same way that their teammate had. She said, "No." Eric screamed, "Fire!" Tigerlily jumped as numerous bolts of light scorched the floor. She landed on the shoulders of another Nastyman. She twisted his head in a circle. Before he could fall, she leapt to another; his comrades cut him down trying to shoot her, along with the two on either side of him. Eric stopped firing. He dove for the bomb. Tigerlilly did a backflip and landed on ballet point on the top of another henchman's head. He splattered downward, his splattering like it had been dropped from the 50th floor. Tigerlilly's eyes were glass marbles, her mouth a small and straight line. She glided from soldier to soldier, each one either being ended with a quick and efficent blow or turned to vapor. Eric tapped out the password, but nerves and shaking fingers got him a "DENIED" on the screen. He tried it again. Same result. He tried to ignore the screams of his personal guard as they died all around him. "C'mon, c'mon... oh, crap that's the wrong password." He started to type in the right one, but he found he did not have a hand. He stared at the stump, weaping blood, and screamed. He looked up and saw tigerlilly, holding his hand like it was attached to an invisible crossing guard. "You don't get to speak about Atlantis," she said. "They were kind people, before the earthquake. They showed my people the first kindness we'd seen in a thousand worlds. That is, except for one. He was like you." Tigerlilly dropped the hand. Behind her, Eric could see a few corpses, but mostly he saw human sized stains. Somehow, the girl's clothes were still pristine. "He built weapons. We shared our tech at first. But then we saw what your kind might do with with it. We saw the darkness in your hearts, only too late. It sank the greatest city in your short history into the ocean. Your kind and my kind were both lost, save for a very few. We made a promise that day, one you're trying to undo." "Get away from me!" Eric shouted, trying to tie his belt around his arm stump. "For ten thousand years, I've given powers to your people. Manipulating your flesh is so easy. Eric stammered, "You... you what? But I-" "So many use them well. A few, not so much. Either way, it keeps you fighting amongst yourselves. The few of great power in an internal struggle while the rest of the world is content to wait and see what you do. "I will not see you reveal us. I will not see you try to undo ten millenia of guidance and nurturing. You, Eric, are the worst of your kind. While I will do anything it takes to see that your infant race not only remaisn thinking you're the greatest, fiercest, most dangerous creatures in the universe, but that you never advance so far that find out what really holds that title. Lucky for you that it was us, their little cousins that found you. "Now die." The doors burst open. The Sergeant and Nightshade were first. Silver Cypher flew in and said, "I knew it! This room was the only one with the cameras blocked out it had to be here!" The Sargeant yelled, "Where's Tigerlily?" A small voice said, "Here." They all turned and found her hugging her knees on the floor. Nightshade dashed, wrapping her leafy arms around the girl like a mother. "Oh T.L., did they hurt you?" The girl shook her head. "I found them like this. I think the bomb backfired." Sargeant Static said, "We should have found it faster." Cypher said, "It's okay. We all missed it." The Sargeant looked around the room. "Doesn't matter now. Let's get Tigerlilly and ourselves the hell out of here." Nightshade covered the girl's ears. "Language!" Tigerlilly giggled. "It's okay, Shade. I'm a big girl. I can take it."	The big man in red plunged his hand like a blade between the fourth and fifth rib of the man under him. “Your buddies are all dead,” he rasped, his throat raw from berserker rage. “Tell me where my friends are and I’ll let you live.” His leather-clad fist tightened and the thug moaned. “Don’t tell and I’ll eat your heart in front of you before you can die.” He smiled, teeth white against the blood splashed against his face and beard. “And I’m hungry.” The thug babbled an answer and was dropped aside as the big man turned to go. He had almost reached the door when the thug gasped, “They’re just reindeer, man!” The big man in red turned slowly, menacingly, back to the thug. Then he smiled, so warmly that for a moment the thug lost all fear. But when he looked into the big man’s eyes, his heart fell as he saw his end.
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	I am a necromancer. My party knows this. Skorndrick Gristle, the Lost, at your service. In fact, the way I've worked myself out, my spells and my fighting capabilities, I'm probably the strongest member of our party. Do any of them suspect this? No. As far as they're concerned, I'm a good person who just.... helps the dead ease into the afterlife. And if that means telling them the dead wish to help, then that's what I've done. They've even got a joke excuse for me and my enchanted shovel- it's for digging "trenches". One time I bullshitted some suspicious librarians that didn't want to loan me a necromancy book with "The dead know the truth. There is meaning behind their existence. We all die, it doesn't have to be a bad thing. They need help, and I'm here for them." Another time I told a guard I was resurrecting a dead man because he'd requested being allowed to help protect the town he'd so loved in life. That was a lie, as well. And my party believed me. Of course they did. Naturally they've had their suspicions, of course. They've even been suspicious of our Oathbreaker Paladin, but he's a paladin so he can't be that suspicious. And to help that, I've always been cautious around them. Always. I've never had a reason to make them question me, more or less. Doing bad things for the right reasons is still doing something with good intentions for the benefit of more than just yourself. I've always told myself they didn't need to see the side of me that was kicked out of the dwarven cities for my actions, that they didn't deserve to experience what those who knew me back at home did. Until now. Until that awful man took them and threatened them and hurt them and hid them away. I wasn't there with them when they need me to be. I was away, teasing bones out of the teeth of the dragon I had raised from the grave with the Oathbreaker. Each time Heskan, my dragon, consumes a living being, he becomes a little more alive, a little less skeletal, flesh and sinew regenerating into place from rotting tendrils of death magic I amplified with the Oathbreaker to bring back. We'd been recovering in the privacy of a forest grove outside of the city when it happened, and I didn't find out until the next day. I always sleep with Heskan- his ribcage has hammocks of burlap for our stuff, and it's free real estate, so why not? Some of our party jokes he's the "Bone Bus", and I'll be the first to admit that's what he's mostly for. But now that man- the general of this shit kingdom's tiny, half-assed army- has my friends. He's locked them up, lied and said they were invaders or demons or spies or whatever nonsense befit each of them in his mind. All so he could power trip over visitors. And I will not permit that. Heskan and I are outside of a three hundred year old graveyard that's housed every dead member of this city since its founding, all closely buried together to save space. That's quite a bit of fodder for me to abuse, and Heskan agrees. It won't take me long, most of the night maybe, but missing a night's worth of sleep in exchange for an undying army is well worth the cost to save my party. They're good people. And they deserve me.	The big man in red plunged his hand like a blade between the fourth and fifth rib of the man under him. “Your buddies are all dead,” he rasped, his throat raw from berserker rage. “Tell me where my friends are and I’ll let you live.” His leather-clad fist tightened and the thug moaned. “Don’t tell and I’ll eat your heart in front of you before you can die.” He smiled, teeth white against the blood splashed against his face and beard. “And I’m hungry.” The thug babbled an answer and was dropped aside as the big man turned to go. He had almost reached the door when the thug gasped, “They’re just reindeer, man!” The big man in red turned slowly, menacingly, back to the thug. Then he smiled, so warmly that for a moment the thug lost all fear. But when he looked into the big man’s eyes, his heart fell as he saw his end.
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	In the muted light of the room, Lakme's 'Flower Duet' played. It almost made for a romantic atmosphere. Almost. "You see... Marcus... here's the thing. I'm not what you would call a good person." Marcus O'Reilly sneered up at me from the chair to which I'd tied him. When he came in the door to his palatial estate home, I'd surprised him from behind with chloroform and a rag. He struggled for a few seconds, but even a man of his size and physical fitness couldn't resist the sweet siren call of slumber under those circumstances. I'd handcuffed him to the chair, positioned him in the middle of his massive living room, and waited patiently for him to wake up. I'd already been waiting hours for him to come home, so a couple more wasn't a huge deal at this point. When he finally awoke, blinking away the confusion and disorientation, he didn't notice me at first in the muted light. But once he did, his attention snapped to me and he grinned his trademark sadistic grin. He told me I was a dead man, that I didn't even know it yet. Then he asked me just what the hell I was trying to pull off, that he had to know before I died, so he could satisfy his curiosity. I just sat there in my chair, staring at him, expressionless. What seemed like an eternity passed before he spoke again. "Well asshole? What's your game plan here? I gotta know. You better talk quick, my security will be doing their sweeps any minute now, and when they do, you're as good as dead." I blinked, then adopted a concerned expression. "Security?" "Jesus," he said smugly. "You didn't think I'd have security? Who do you think you're dealing with?" "Oh, I know you had security," I said, reaching out with one booted foot and tipping over the large Rubbermaid bin, spilling its contents over the polished hardwood floor. "I just don't think they're going to be much help, is all." Marcus blanched as he saw eight severed heads roll onto the living room floor, leaving a coagulated blood trail behind them. "Jeff put up the biggest fight, in case you were wondering. His widow should get some kind of bonus." O'Reilly's eyes slowly lifted from the decapitated heads up to meet my eyes. "You think someone won't notice there's a problem? You'll never make it out of here alive," he said, but with less bravado this time. "Someone will notice I'm missing, and they'll come to check what happened. You're as good as dead." "By the time they do," I replied flatly, "They'll find nothing but a charred skeleton of your former house. There will be nothing left for them to use to track me down. I've made sure of that." Marcus lost his cool then, and struggled violently against his handcuffs, trying to escape. In his attempts, he flopped over onto his side, knocking his head against the floor. He groaned as I moved over and lifted him back up into a sitting position. "Here's the thing, Marcus. As I mentioned, I'm not a good person. You ordered my friends captured. I want them back. So I'm going to make you a very simple deal, one that you won't want to refuse." "Fuck you," he sputtered hatefully. I walked to the wall, switching on the rest of the lights in the room for the first time. His eyes went as wide as dinner plates. "As you can see," I said coldly, "I also have your wife, two daughters and son here tonight." Behind me, the wife and children also struggled against their bonds, their muffled cries now barely audible over the classical music, which had now changed to Tchaikovsky's 'Slave March'. "I'm going to give you a choice, Marcus. You die tonight, regardless. I just can't leave you alive, it's simply too risky. But I will give you the opportunity to let your wife and kids live." I slowly walked over to them, and began caressing the hair of his wife as she frantically struggled. "You tell me where my friends are. If I find them alive and unharmed, I will release your wife and kids. They will not have to share your fate, burning and suffocating in a horrifying house fire 'accident'." I moved, now caressing his older daughter's head as she cried soundlessly. "If you refuse, I will burn this place to the ground and move on to your senior lieutenant next. I'm pretty sure he'll talk, but even if he doesn't... I have plenty of chances to get this information from someone under your employ, so don't think for one second that I'm bluffing. You aren't the only option available to me. You have no cards to play here." His eyes moved from his family to the disembodied heads of his trusted guards, then back to me. I saw the look of resignation on his face as he realized I was correct. "You promise you'll let them go?" he asked quietly. "You have my word," I replied. "They don't know who I am." "You know," Marcus said with sad amusement, "You would have made an excellent addition to my organization." I smiled, coldly. "You have no idea how right you are."	They were good people. That’s always what you heard whenever you went tavern diving or strayed around markets. But, of course, it would always be followed by “but that shady one makes me feel uneasy.” You were that shady one, but you couldn’t really fault them, or get angry. On the whole ‘light-side crusade’ that was their party, anyone who wasn’t lawful good or lawful neutral would automatically be the dark one. And you were fine with that. They were strong, supportive, and slowly, you started to see some of the lighter things in life. Perhaps good things could happen to good people at times. You were out in a local dive when the attack occured. You were half-listening to a sad drunk’s tale while sipping your own drink, completely unaware that your party was being attacked at that very moment. After making some new contacts you returned to the small encampment your party had set up, but instead to a quiet night broken only by whichever poor sap had drawn the night shift, you returned to a half-destroyed battlefield with no signs of life. Of course, there were small clues that his party had been fighting. Deep gouges in the earth, the occasional missed arrow, or even small splatters of blood. But no bodies. No tracks leading to wherever their unconscious bodies had been carried off to. You completely dug up that camp, almost maddened in your search for any trace, any lead, but you failed. It was as if they had disappeared in the midst of fighting, as if they had been carried away to some strange other world. That meant magic. You hated magic. Nothing good came out of magic, especially for someone such as you. Truth compulsions, magical tracking, all had screwed you over at some time or the other. Technically, healing was classified as Divine Magic so your whole hatred was justified, but you knew how close to hypocrisy you came. Still, you weren’t unwelcome to the occasional haste buff or piercing enchantment your magically-inclined allies casted upon you during combat, so you tolerated it. However, occasionally magic was used to complete feats of complete bullshit, such as teleporting an entire party from an area while leaving no traces. You reaffirmed that they were just waiting for you to find them. They were not dead. In order to find them, however, you were going to have to go through drastic measures. Thus, you found yourself outside a church. You didn’t know what distinguished churches from temples or chapels, but all you knew was that this place of worship was willing to perform certain rituals for certain fees. You didn’t really care about all the people you had to rob, steal from, or con in order to pay the price necessary. What? It’s not like you would pay for this using your own money. The source of your money aside, you felt trepidation as you approached the church’s doors. It had been years-no decades since you had been in one. That.. that was when you were younger. When the world was a little brighter. Even with proof of gods and higher beings you still felt skepticism when faced with religion. Though today, you would have to renounce all that. There was a nun waiting by the door for any travellers, and you could tell from the way her arms tensed that she expected you to start some sort of trouble. Inwardly, you scoffed. Of course even here there was bigotry and assumptions. Though you had never directly clashed with your party’s paladin, there was always something in her gaze that made you feel.. unclean. Apparently this was where she got it from. You were about to explain what your purpose was, but the nun raised a hand to quiet you. “We already know why you have come here. Our God sent us a vision explaining your plight. We are willing to assist you in this noble and good endeavour, provided, of course, you find some way to.. dispose of your ill-begotten gains.” At your confused expression, the nun simply motioned to the side, where a box labeled “DONATIONS” was waiting. Of course. The tracking ritual was.. disconcerting. It had required you to divulge.. personal details about yourself to the nuns in the room and the deity, and you weren’t exactly sure how to feel about that. Maybe it was the knowing look the nun gave you, or perhaps it was the Otherness of the ritual, but you felt ill at ease with yourself. But you forced the feeling down. The ritual was successful, and you had managed to find the place the ritual had described. Thankfully, it was only a fortress. If it had been another monastery you might have left your party altogether. You quickly infiltrated the fortress, and slowly started to move towards your party while disguised as a maid. Nobody questioned your movements, too afraid that you were on an important someone’s bidding, so you quickly found your way into the heart of the fortress. Finally, you found your way to your party. A smile threatened to break on your face, but you forced it down. It would completely destroy your respect amongst your group! You quickly slaughtered the feeble guardsmen, and then walked into the prisoners’ room. There, slightly hurt but not dead, was your party. You could see the surprise in their eyes when they saw you, but they were silent. Finally, the white mage asked, “So, uh, is the maid thing permanent?” There were a small round of snickers, and you felt the inexplicable urge to leave them all there. Then again, you had gone through all this trouble. You reach down unlock their chains with the keys you had pilfered from the guards outside, and as you’re leaning down over the paladin, she asks, “Was it hard to find us?” You considered telling the truth, telling them about your visit to the church and how they had thought you were on some ‘noble’ quest to save them. But then you simply said “It was only a fortress.” and left it at that. The paladin’s truth-sight wasn’t fooled, but she was gracious enough that she didn’t call you out when the rest of the party started to laugh. You unlocked the your last party member, a shifty spellsword that you could swear had been a thief once, and look back to the assembled party. This time, you allowed the smile to show on your face. Though what you planned went directly against what some of their alignments might stand for, you had the feeling that they would be all to happy to play along. “Let’s slaughter our way out of here.”
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	On some level, I probably care about them. Gods, I need to stop. They don't matter to me. It doesn't matter who they are. They are objectively useful to me. They've helped me achieve my goals and that's all that matters. They're good fighters and I like to have them around in a pinch. These thoughts had been plagueing me for days. I know who I am. I'm a monster. I've killed bad men for crossing me, and better men for nothing. That is, until I started traveling with them. Târz was a decent orc. Big and brutish as he looked with his bare chest and double axes, he was actually a very thoughtful and intelligent creature. Funny. I guess my prejudices made me think he'd be a bit more like me when he recruited me to go with him and two other travelers to dispatch a gang of bandits. I figured it was just a good day's slaughter for a good days pay, but they actually cared enough to save the hostages and slaves. I'd never seen that before. It was Aelindriel who first mentioned saving them. Aelindriel? Aelindariel? Gods, I hate elvish names. Aelindel, that's it! Regardless, this elf actually went out of his way, damn near taking a bolt to the chest, just to save one slave. Wasn't a particularly useful maneuver. Could've gotten him killed, and it wasn't like the slave could fight. He was only a kid. I've still, to this very day, never seen someone take as many hits and keep getting up as he did that day. An axe wound to the shoulder didn't even stop him from carrying that kid back to the nearest town. Emotional, Elvish bastard. Probably wrote another one of his gods-damned poems about it. Still. I hope I get to hear one or two of them again. Well, I'd put up with hearing it if it meant I had his sword by my side. So I keep telling myself. I'm going to get them back. Whatever it takes. Gods damn that treacherous bastard. After a year of sticking around with these two and myself, the one human has to go and mess everything up. We'd traveled the plains of the west, the northern mountains where I grew up, and the lava fields to the south and shared many a feast over spoils from victory. I miss those times. It was just as profitable as being a bandit, and I never had to skip town over some band of "heroes" coming after me. Now look at me. My horse is, quite literally, covered in the blood of my enemies. I need to find a river or a lake or something. I can't let them zee me like this. Hell, I've got flesh in my teeth. They'd never let it fly that I tortured someone to find out where they were. On top of that, even I think that taking a chunk out of his calf might've been too far. There's no time for those thoughts now, though. I'll come to terms with who and what I am later. For now, I've got two heroes to save, a plot to expose, and a newly crowned prince to kill. Gods, I hope they never found out what I did to save them. I hope they never find out what I'm going to do. Edit: yo this is the first time I've gotten upvotes in this sub, I love you guys lmao	They were good people. That’s always what you heard whenever you went tavern diving or strayed around markets. But, of course, it would always be followed by “but that shady one makes me feel uneasy.” You were that shady one, but you couldn’t really fault them, or get angry. On the whole ‘light-side crusade’ that was their party, anyone who wasn’t lawful good or lawful neutral would automatically be the dark one. And you were fine with that. They were strong, supportive, and slowly, you started to see some of the lighter things in life. Perhaps good things could happen to good people at times. You were out in a local dive when the attack occured. You were half-listening to a sad drunk’s tale while sipping your own drink, completely unaware that your party was being attacked at that very moment. After making some new contacts you returned to the small encampment your party had set up, but instead to a quiet night broken only by whichever poor sap had drawn the night shift, you returned to a half-destroyed battlefield with no signs of life. Of course, there were small clues that his party had been fighting. Deep gouges in the earth, the occasional missed arrow, or even small splatters of blood. But no bodies. No tracks leading to wherever their unconscious bodies had been carried off to. You completely dug up that camp, almost maddened in your search for any trace, any lead, but you failed. It was as if they had disappeared in the midst of fighting, as if they had been carried away to some strange other world. That meant magic. You hated magic. Nothing good came out of magic, especially for someone such as you. Truth compulsions, magical tracking, all had screwed you over at some time or the other. Technically, healing was classified as Divine Magic so your whole hatred was justified, but you knew how close to hypocrisy you came. Still, you weren’t unwelcome to the occasional haste buff or piercing enchantment your magically-inclined allies casted upon you during combat, so you tolerated it. However, occasionally magic was used to complete feats of complete bullshit, such as teleporting an entire party from an area while leaving no traces. You reaffirmed that they were just waiting for you to find them. They were not dead. In order to find them, however, you were going to have to go through drastic measures. Thus, you found yourself outside a church. You didn’t know what distinguished churches from temples or chapels, but all you knew was that this place of worship was willing to perform certain rituals for certain fees. You didn’t really care about all the people you had to rob, steal from, or con in order to pay the price necessary. What? It’s not like you would pay for this using your own money. The source of your money aside, you felt trepidation as you approached the church’s doors. It had been years-no decades since you had been in one. That.. that was when you were younger. When the world was a little brighter. Even with proof of gods and higher beings you still felt skepticism when faced with religion. Though today, you would have to renounce all that. There was a nun waiting by the door for any travellers, and you could tell from the way her arms tensed that she expected you to start some sort of trouble. Inwardly, you scoffed. Of course even here there was bigotry and assumptions. Though you had never directly clashed with your party’s paladin, there was always something in her gaze that made you feel.. unclean. Apparently this was where she got it from. You were about to explain what your purpose was, but the nun raised a hand to quiet you. “We already know why you have come here. Our God sent us a vision explaining your plight. We are willing to assist you in this noble and good endeavour, provided, of course, you find some way to.. dispose of your ill-begotten gains.” At your confused expression, the nun simply motioned to the side, where a box labeled “DONATIONS” was waiting. Of course. The tracking ritual was.. disconcerting. It had required you to divulge.. personal details about yourself to the nuns in the room and the deity, and you weren’t exactly sure how to feel about that. Maybe it was the knowing look the nun gave you, or perhaps it was the Otherness of the ritual, but you felt ill at ease with yourself. But you forced the feeling down. The ritual was successful, and you had managed to find the place the ritual had described. Thankfully, it was only a fortress. If it had been another monastery you might have left your party altogether. You quickly infiltrated the fortress, and slowly started to move towards your party while disguised as a maid. Nobody questioned your movements, too afraid that you were on an important someone’s bidding, so you quickly found your way into the heart of the fortress. Finally, you found your way to your party. A smile threatened to break on your face, but you forced it down. It would completely destroy your respect amongst your group! You quickly slaughtered the feeble guardsmen, and then walked into the prisoners’ room. There, slightly hurt but not dead, was your party. You could see the surprise in their eyes when they saw you, but they were silent. Finally, the white mage asked, “So, uh, is the maid thing permanent?” There were a small round of snickers, and you felt the inexplicable urge to leave them all there. Then again, you had gone through all this trouble. You reach down unlock their chains with the keys you had pilfered from the guards outside, and as you’re leaning down over the paladin, she asks, “Was it hard to find us?” You considered telling the truth, telling them about your visit to the church and how they had thought you were on some ‘noble’ quest to save them. But then you simply said “It was only a fortress.” and left it at that. The paladin’s truth-sight wasn’t fooled, but she was gracious enough that she didn’t call you out when the rest of the party started to laugh. You unlocked the your last party member, a shifty spellsword that you could swear had been a thief once, and look back to the assembled party. This time, you allowed the smile to show on your face. Though what you planned went directly against what some of their alignments might stand for, you had the feeling that they would be all to happy to play along. “Let’s slaughter our way out of here.”
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	"Steel City Stalwarts, unite!" Comet Lad flew in and landed on Sergeant Static's right side. Nightshade Assassin swung down on one of her vines. Silver Cypher's armor hissed and clicked as the cooling systems compensated for the afterburners he'd used to get here. The Gray Gorrilla took the rear, his massive body throwing a shade over all of them. The team all looked ready to take on the entire force of Eric Nasty's henchman, collectively and individually. Except for one. Coming standing behind one of the Gorrilla's legs was Tigerlily, her uniform barely dusty from the fighting. She looked, as she always did, just a little like she was about to run. The Sergeant didn't seem to notice her fear. His eyes were on the tactical situation as his mind ran through strategies at lightning speed. He said, "There's no way we can find the Mayor in time as a group. We need to split up. Gray G, you clear this floor and start working up. Nightshade, you and me work our way down to the parking garage. Comet, start on the roof and meet Gray G in the middle. Cypher, hack into their cameras and find the mayor and find that bomb!" As their leader lifted Static Staff to give the call to action, Tigerlily said, "What do you need me to do boss?" Sergeant turned around and said, "Just stay here. Hold up in the courtroom over there. We'll bring the wounded to you. Heal them, then get them out. Can you handle that." The tiny lass said, "Yes sir! I won't let you down!" Sergeant Static reached out and ruffled her hair affectionately. "That's my girl. Everyone, to the rescue!" They all shouted in unison, "To the rescue!" They flew away. The Sergeant looked over his shoulder and made sure that Tigerlily made it to the courtroom where she'd wait. When they got to the door to the stairs, Nightshade Princess said, "You have to stop treating her like a kid. She's one of us. She's a superhero." Sergeant said, "She's a kid who can heal people. I'm tired of sending kids into battle, Shade." The princess of poisonous plants rolled her eyes, which contrasted with the proud smile. In the courtroom, though, Tigerlily was not smiling. Eric Nasty and fifteen of his Nastymen were standing, their weapons drawn. Eric stood over the bomb, his hands on the panel to enter the password, the last step to arming it. When he saw the white-clad healer, he drew his pistol and pointed at her. "Look what we got here! The mascot!" Tigerlily said, "You'll never defeat the Stalwarts! Just give up!" Eric stood, laughing. "Will I? And how will they defeat me, brat, without their powers?" She shook her head. "What?" Eric pointed to the bomb. "You super dummy's are all the same. I don't just mean that sickening sense of self righteousness. I mean that I figured it out. Every superhero, every one I could get a DNA sample for, you all derive your power from the same source. Would you like to know what it is? Get ready... it's aliens." The girl balled up her fists, "You're crazy." "No, I'm brilliant. I may not fly or shoot lightning or juggle sedans, but I have a power. I've got a mind sharp enough to split atoms. I also have money and I paid a lot for the remains of a very special ship recently brought up from the ocean. Atlantis was real! Aliens are real! The great pulse that turned people into superfreaks came from their technology. In a few minutes, I'm going to demosntrate all that, and unless you're wearing a countermeasure charm, like I am, say goodbye to your abilities and hello to the reign of Nasty!" Eric cackled. His men laughed and raised their blasters. And then one exploded. The room went dead. Tigerlily wasn't by the door anymore. She was standing within arms reach of where the ex-Nastyman had stood, his body now a spray of red chunks and foul smells. Eric said, "What the...?" Tigerlilly's body moved so fast that all you could see was a white blur. Her hands fell on two more. They detonated, the same way that their teammate had. She said, "No." Eric screamed, "Fire!" Tigerlily jumped as numerous bolts of light scorched the floor. She landed on the shoulders of another Nastyman. She twisted his head in a circle. Before he could fall, she leapt to another; his comrades cut him down trying to shoot her, along with the two on either side of him. Eric stopped firing. He dove for the bomb. Tigerlilly did a backflip and landed on ballet point on the top of another henchman's head. He splattered downward, his splattering like it had been dropped from the 50th floor. Tigerlilly's eyes were glass marbles, her mouth a small and straight line. She glided from soldier to soldier, each one either being ended with a quick and efficent blow or turned to vapor. Eric tapped out the password, but nerves and shaking fingers got him a "DENIED" on the screen. He tried it again. Same result. He tried to ignore the screams of his personal guard as they died all around him. "C'mon, c'mon... oh, crap that's the wrong password." He started to type in the right one, but he found he did not have a hand. He stared at the stump, weaping blood, and screamed. He looked up and saw tigerlilly, holding his hand like it was attached to an invisible crossing guard. "You don't get to speak about Atlantis," she said. "They were kind people, before the earthquake. They showed my people the first kindness we'd seen in a thousand worlds. That is, except for one. He was like you." Tigerlilly dropped the hand. Behind her, Eric could see a few corpses, but mostly he saw human sized stains. Somehow, the girl's clothes were still pristine. "He built weapons. We shared our tech at first. But then we saw what your kind might do with with it. We saw the darkness in your hearts, only too late. It sank the greatest city in your short history into the ocean. Your kind and my kind were both lost, save for a very few. We made a promise that day, one you're trying to undo." "Get away from me!" Eric shouted, trying to tie his belt around his arm stump. "For ten thousand years, I've given powers to your people. Manipulating your flesh is so easy. Eric stammered, "You... you what? But I-" "So many use them well. A few, not so much. Either way, it keeps you fighting amongst yourselves. The few of great power in an internal struggle while the rest of the world is content to wait and see what you do. "I will not see you reveal us. I will not see you try to undo ten millenia of guidance and nurturing. You, Eric, are the worst of your kind. While I will do anything it takes to see that your infant race not only remaisn thinking you're the greatest, fiercest, most dangerous creatures in the universe, but that you never advance so far that find out what really holds that title. Lucky for you that it was us, their little cousins that found you. "Now die." The doors burst open. The Sergeant and Nightshade were first. Silver Cypher flew in and said, "I knew it! This room was the only one with the cameras blocked out it had to be here!" The Sargeant yelled, "Where's Tigerlily?" A small voice said, "Here." They all turned and found her hugging her knees on the floor. Nightshade dashed, wrapping her leafy arms around the girl like a mother. "Oh T.L., did they hurt you?" The girl shook her head. "I found them like this. I think the bomb backfired." Sargeant Static said, "We should have found it faster." Cypher said, "It's okay. We all missed it." The Sargeant looked around the room. "Doesn't matter now. Let's get Tigerlilly and ourselves the hell out of here." Nightshade covered the girl's ears. "Language!" Tigerlilly giggled. "It's okay, Shade. I'm a big girl. I can take it."	They were good people. That’s always what you heard whenever you went tavern diving or strayed around markets. But, of course, it would always be followed by “but that shady one makes me feel uneasy.” You were that shady one, but you couldn’t really fault them, or get angry. On the whole ‘light-side crusade’ that was their party, anyone who wasn’t lawful good or lawful neutral would automatically be the dark one. And you were fine with that. They were strong, supportive, and slowly, you started to see some of the lighter things in life. Perhaps good things could happen to good people at times. You were out in a local dive when the attack occured. You were half-listening to a sad drunk’s tale while sipping your own drink, completely unaware that your party was being attacked at that very moment. After making some new contacts you returned to the small encampment your party had set up, but instead to a quiet night broken only by whichever poor sap had drawn the night shift, you returned to a half-destroyed battlefield with no signs of life. Of course, there were small clues that his party had been fighting. Deep gouges in the earth, the occasional missed arrow, or even small splatters of blood. But no bodies. No tracks leading to wherever their unconscious bodies had been carried off to. You completely dug up that camp, almost maddened in your search for any trace, any lead, but you failed. It was as if they had disappeared in the midst of fighting, as if they had been carried away to some strange other world. That meant magic. You hated magic. Nothing good came out of magic, especially for someone such as you. Truth compulsions, magical tracking, all had screwed you over at some time or the other. Technically, healing was classified as Divine Magic so your whole hatred was justified, but you knew how close to hypocrisy you came. Still, you weren’t unwelcome to the occasional haste buff or piercing enchantment your magically-inclined allies casted upon you during combat, so you tolerated it. However, occasionally magic was used to complete feats of complete bullshit, such as teleporting an entire party from an area while leaving no traces. You reaffirmed that they were just waiting for you to find them. They were not dead. In order to find them, however, you were going to have to go through drastic measures. Thus, you found yourself outside a church. You didn’t know what distinguished churches from temples or chapels, but all you knew was that this place of worship was willing to perform certain rituals for certain fees. You didn’t really care about all the people you had to rob, steal from, or con in order to pay the price necessary. What? It’s not like you would pay for this using your own money. The source of your money aside, you felt trepidation as you approached the church’s doors. It had been years-no decades since you had been in one. That.. that was when you were younger. When the world was a little brighter. Even with proof of gods and higher beings you still felt skepticism when faced with religion. Though today, you would have to renounce all that. There was a nun waiting by the door for any travellers, and you could tell from the way her arms tensed that she expected you to start some sort of trouble. Inwardly, you scoffed. Of course even here there was bigotry and assumptions. Though you had never directly clashed with your party’s paladin, there was always something in her gaze that made you feel.. unclean. Apparently this was where she got it from. You were about to explain what your purpose was, but the nun raised a hand to quiet you. “We already know why you have come here. Our God sent us a vision explaining your plight. We are willing to assist you in this noble and good endeavour, provided, of course, you find some way to.. dispose of your ill-begotten gains.” At your confused expression, the nun simply motioned to the side, where a box labeled “DONATIONS” was waiting. Of course. The tracking ritual was.. disconcerting. It had required you to divulge.. personal details about yourself to the nuns in the room and the deity, and you weren’t exactly sure how to feel about that. Maybe it was the knowing look the nun gave you, or perhaps it was the Otherness of the ritual, but you felt ill at ease with yourself. But you forced the feeling down. The ritual was successful, and you had managed to find the place the ritual had described. Thankfully, it was only a fortress. If it had been another monastery you might have left your party altogether. You quickly infiltrated the fortress, and slowly started to move towards your party while disguised as a maid. Nobody questioned your movements, too afraid that you were on an important someone’s bidding, so you quickly found your way into the heart of the fortress. Finally, you found your way to your party. A smile threatened to break on your face, but you forced it down. It would completely destroy your respect amongst your group! You quickly slaughtered the feeble guardsmen, and then walked into the prisoners’ room. There, slightly hurt but not dead, was your party. You could see the surprise in their eyes when they saw you, but they were silent. Finally, the white mage asked, “So, uh, is the maid thing permanent?” There were a small round of snickers, and you felt the inexplicable urge to leave them all there. Then again, you had gone through all this trouble. You reach down unlock their chains with the keys you had pilfered from the guards outside, and as you’re leaning down over the paladin, she asks, “Was it hard to find us?” You considered telling the truth, telling them about your visit to the church and how they had thought you were on some ‘noble’ quest to save them. But then you simply said “It was only a fortress.” and left it at that. The paladin’s truth-sight wasn’t fooled, but she was gracious enough that she didn’t call you out when the rest of the party started to laugh. You unlocked the your last party member, a shifty spellsword that you could swear had been a thief once, and look back to the assembled party. This time, you allowed the smile to show on your face. Though what you planned went directly against what some of their alignments might stand for, you had the feeling that they would be all to happy to play along. “Let’s slaughter our way out of here.”
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	In the muted light of the room, Lakme's 'Flower Duet' played. It almost made for a romantic atmosphere. Almost. "You see... Marcus... here's the thing. I'm not what you would call a good person." Marcus O'Reilly sneered up at me from the chair to which I'd tied him. When he came in the door to his palatial estate home, I'd surprised him from behind with chloroform and a rag. He struggled for a few seconds, but even a man of his size and physical fitness couldn't resist the sweet siren call of slumber under those circumstances. I'd handcuffed him to the chair, positioned him in the middle of his massive living room, and waited patiently for him to wake up. I'd already been waiting hours for him to come home, so a couple more wasn't a huge deal at this point. When he finally awoke, blinking away the confusion and disorientation, he didn't notice me at first in the muted light. But once he did, his attention snapped to me and he grinned his trademark sadistic grin. He told me I was a dead man, that I didn't even know it yet. Then he asked me just what the hell I was trying to pull off, that he had to know before I died, so he could satisfy his curiosity. I just sat there in my chair, staring at him, expressionless. What seemed like an eternity passed before he spoke again. "Well asshole? What's your game plan here? I gotta know. You better talk quick, my security will be doing their sweeps any minute now, and when they do, you're as good as dead." I blinked, then adopted a concerned expression. "Security?" "Jesus," he said smugly. "You didn't think I'd have security? Who do you think you're dealing with?" "Oh, I know you had security," I said, reaching out with one booted foot and tipping over the large Rubbermaid bin, spilling its contents over the polished hardwood floor. "I just don't think they're going to be much help, is all." Marcus blanched as he saw eight severed heads roll onto the living room floor, leaving a coagulated blood trail behind them. "Jeff put up the biggest fight, in case you were wondering. His widow should get some kind of bonus." O'Reilly's eyes slowly lifted from the decapitated heads up to meet my eyes. "You think someone won't notice there's a problem? You'll never make it out of here alive," he said, but with less bravado this time. "Someone will notice I'm missing, and they'll come to check what happened. You're as good as dead." "By the time they do," I replied flatly, "They'll find nothing but a charred skeleton of your former house. There will be nothing left for them to use to track me down. I've made sure of that." Marcus lost his cool then, and struggled violently against his handcuffs, trying to escape. In his attempts, he flopped over onto his side, knocking his head against the floor. He groaned as I moved over and lifted him back up into a sitting position. "Here's the thing, Marcus. As I mentioned, I'm not a good person. You ordered my friends captured. I want them back. So I'm going to make you a very simple deal, one that you won't want to refuse." "Fuck you," he sputtered hatefully. I walked to the wall, switching on the rest of the lights in the room for the first time. His eyes went as wide as dinner plates. "As you can see," I said coldly, "I also have your wife, two daughters and son here tonight." Behind me, the wife and children also struggled against their bonds, their muffled cries now barely audible over the classical music, which had now changed to Tchaikovsky's 'Slave March'. "I'm going to give you a choice, Marcus. You die tonight, regardless. I just can't leave you alive, it's simply too risky. But I will give you the opportunity to let your wife and kids live." I slowly walked over to them, and began caressing the hair of his wife as she frantically struggled. "You tell me where my friends are. If I find them alive and unharmed, I will release your wife and kids. They will not have to share your fate, burning and suffocating in a horrifying house fire 'accident'." I moved, now caressing his older daughter's head as she cried soundlessly. "If you refuse, I will burn this place to the ground and move on to your senior lieutenant next. I'm pretty sure he'll talk, but even if he doesn't... I have plenty of chances to get this information from someone under your employ, so don't think for one second that I'm bluffing. You aren't the only option available to me. You have no cards to play here." His eyes moved from his family to the disembodied heads of his trusted guards, then back to me. I saw the look of resignation on his face as he realized I was correct. "You promise you'll let them go?" he asked quietly. "You have my word," I replied. "They don't know who I am." "You know," Marcus said with sad amusement, "You would have made an excellent addition to my organization." I smiled, coldly. "You have no idea how right you are."	“I wouldn’t call myself an Evil person, just more of a compulsive liar.” That is what I always told them; I doubt they all got the double-entendre but my reluctance to admit my own faults certainly aided the party on many occasions. “The Party”, a moniker I always used with pleasure after explaining to Paladin Hines that a group only really became a party with the addition of a whore. He almost seemed to relish the opportunity to hold his temper in check, a self-flagellation that vindicated his own faith. If anything, it secured my position with the party, kept him from urging the others to push me out. To do so would be admitting I was getting the better of him. Instead we worked together in ways others could not. A lot of our line of work is getting the right information, not just cracking heads or rescuing damsels. Interrogation isn’t easy work when the prisoner knows you won’t do anything very rough to them. That is where I came in, the villain who might plausibly peel their fingernails off if the honorable paladin didn’t keep stopping me. I wasn’t really in any hurry to do something like that. Too much like work. But they didn’t know that and it worked a treat. But that wasn’t going to work now. I had smelled trouble and went to ground, cutting contact and avoiding everyone I knew for a few days. Those are the sort of instincts that keep someone alive in my line of business; if everything is fine you just pop back up after a couple days and nobody is the wiser. Cultivating a mysterious reputation is hardly the worst thing one can do, keep Hines wondering what I was up to. In this case it turned out to have been the right move. When I returned they were gone barely 12 hours. Of course I first assumed they had finally ditched me, saw through my façade and figured they should cut their losses while I was missing. That was perhaps the most terrifying thought; not that they had finally wised up, but that my instincts had been so far wrong. If I could miss this group planning a move like that then in any other case I would have ended up with a knife between my ribs. Might as well lay down and die right now. A little investigation proved I had not misjudged as their bar tab from the previous night was unpaid. Leaving me behind was plausible but welching on a debt wasn’t something Hines would even contemplate. Nobody had seen anything. That was a problem, a real problem. That many skilled warriors vanishing without a trace, without a commotion or clue was the work of professionals. The innkeeper didn’t understand, not seeing past the trivial sum he was owed, but my business was making people disappear. Give me a fat purse and plenty of time to build my team… and I still wouldn’t be sure of pulling such a thing off. Wouldn’t try either, who cares if there are some bloodstains or noise? The group you were after could fight a quarter of the town guard to a standstill anyway, if you could handle them you could handle any response from the law. Might even benefit by making a statement. So there was no motive, no method, and no clues, which in itself is a clue. It meant they knew what they were doing and that meant leaving nothing to chance, so I would start with the guard. Even if they were no real threat it wouldn’t be left to dumb luck if they wandered into the area when the plan took place, which implied someone was influenced. That person was going to be die in short order (nothing left to chance) so I would need to move quickly, getting to them first before their “accidental” death could be arranged. Luckily I could narrow down the search. Guardsmen with healthy family relationships were highest on the list, as threats against their lives were the best leverage to ensure compliance. Knowing that it had worked in the past meant that capturing their family and torturing them in front of the guard would certainly get the information I was after, but it also meant that there was no other option. Just grabbing the guard would likely mean they kept silent to protect their loved ones. Involving the family was necessary, and unless I somehow chose the right guard from the start it would mean torturing and disposing of several guards and their immediate family as quickly as possible. Once that many families started being killed off whoever was behind my party’s disappearance was bound to figure out what was happening, devoting more resources to the coverup. Best case scenario I found the right guard and got some other information to go on. Even in that case my opponents would be killing several guards off as well, because if somehow my interrogation hadn’t worked they would need to imply that I had not picked the right one. Considering it was already obvious someone was looking for them they would also need to expand their killings to leave some ambiguity as to which one had actually been influenced, to hopefully waste time and throw me off their trail. Once the serial killings became known the guard families would become harder to access, perhaps being moved into the garrison, so in short order there would be an absolute bloodbath taking place. But maybe I could use some of my experience to my advantage. If I was in their shoes and a clever assassin I might be a compulsive liar. Even my lies might be lies, and all those guards I killed weren’t my man at all. Innocent guards would react differently than the one who had been threatened, that one would probably try to rabbit immediately. To keep attention off of them he might even be allowed to flee long enough for me to catch up with them. In any case it was going to be a long few nights ahead of me.
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	On some level, I probably care about them. Gods, I need to stop. They don't matter to me. It doesn't matter who they are. They are objectively useful to me. They've helped me achieve my goals and that's all that matters. They're good fighters and I like to have them around in a pinch. These thoughts had been plagueing me for days. I know who I am. I'm a monster. I've killed bad men for crossing me, and better men for nothing. That is, until I started traveling with them. Târz was a decent orc. Big and brutish as he looked with his bare chest and double axes, he was actually a very thoughtful and intelligent creature. Funny. I guess my prejudices made me think he'd be a bit more like me when he recruited me to go with him and two other travelers to dispatch a gang of bandits. I figured it was just a good day's slaughter for a good days pay, but they actually cared enough to save the hostages and slaves. I'd never seen that before. It was Aelindriel who first mentioned saving them. Aelindriel? Aelindariel? Gods, I hate elvish names. Aelindel, that's it! Regardless, this elf actually went out of his way, damn near taking a bolt to the chest, just to save one slave. Wasn't a particularly useful maneuver. Could've gotten him killed, and it wasn't like the slave could fight. He was only a kid. I've still, to this very day, never seen someone take as many hits and keep getting up as he did that day. An axe wound to the shoulder didn't even stop him from carrying that kid back to the nearest town. Emotional, Elvish bastard. Probably wrote another one of his gods-damned poems about it. Still. I hope I get to hear one or two of them again. Well, I'd put up with hearing it if it meant I had his sword by my side. So I keep telling myself. I'm going to get them back. Whatever it takes. Gods damn that treacherous bastard. After a year of sticking around with these two and myself, the one human has to go and mess everything up. We'd traveled the plains of the west, the northern mountains where I grew up, and the lava fields to the south and shared many a feast over spoils from victory. I miss those times. It was just as profitable as being a bandit, and I never had to skip town over some band of "heroes" coming after me. Now look at me. My horse is, quite literally, covered in the blood of my enemies. I need to find a river or a lake or something. I can't let them zee me like this. Hell, I've got flesh in my teeth. They'd never let it fly that I tortured someone to find out where they were. On top of that, even I think that taking a chunk out of his calf might've been too far. There's no time for those thoughts now, though. I'll come to terms with who and what I am later. For now, I've got two heroes to save, a plot to expose, and a newly crowned prince to kill. Gods, I hope they never found out what I did to save them. I hope they never find out what I'm going to do. Edit: yo this is the first time I've gotten upvotes in this sub, I love you guys lmao	“I wouldn’t call myself an Evil person, just more of a compulsive liar.” That is what I always told them; I doubt they all got the double-entendre but my reluctance to admit my own faults certainly aided the party on many occasions. “The Party”, a moniker I always used with pleasure after explaining to Paladin Hines that a group only really became a party with the addition of a whore. He almost seemed to relish the opportunity to hold his temper in check, a self-flagellation that vindicated his own faith. If anything, it secured my position with the party, kept him from urging the others to push me out. To do so would be admitting I was getting the better of him. Instead we worked together in ways others could not. A lot of our line of work is getting the right information, not just cracking heads or rescuing damsels. Interrogation isn’t easy work when the prisoner knows you won’t do anything very rough to them. That is where I came in, the villain who might plausibly peel their fingernails off if the honorable paladin didn’t keep stopping me. I wasn’t really in any hurry to do something like that. Too much like work. But they didn’t know that and it worked a treat. But that wasn’t going to work now. I had smelled trouble and went to ground, cutting contact and avoiding everyone I knew for a few days. Those are the sort of instincts that keep someone alive in my line of business; if everything is fine you just pop back up after a couple days and nobody is the wiser. Cultivating a mysterious reputation is hardly the worst thing one can do, keep Hines wondering what I was up to. In this case it turned out to have been the right move. When I returned they were gone barely 12 hours. Of course I first assumed they had finally ditched me, saw through my façade and figured they should cut their losses while I was missing. That was perhaps the most terrifying thought; not that they had finally wised up, but that my instincts had been so far wrong. If I could miss this group planning a move like that then in any other case I would have ended up with a knife between my ribs. Might as well lay down and die right now. A little investigation proved I had not misjudged as their bar tab from the previous night was unpaid. Leaving me behind was plausible but welching on a debt wasn’t something Hines would even contemplate. Nobody had seen anything. That was a problem, a real problem. That many skilled warriors vanishing without a trace, without a commotion or clue was the work of professionals. The innkeeper didn’t understand, not seeing past the trivial sum he was owed, but my business was making people disappear. Give me a fat purse and plenty of time to build my team… and I still wouldn’t be sure of pulling such a thing off. Wouldn’t try either, who cares if there are some bloodstains or noise? The group you were after could fight a quarter of the town guard to a standstill anyway, if you could handle them you could handle any response from the law. Might even benefit by making a statement. So there was no motive, no method, and no clues, which in itself is a clue. It meant they knew what they were doing and that meant leaving nothing to chance, so I would start with the guard. Even if they were no real threat it wouldn’t be left to dumb luck if they wandered into the area when the plan took place, which implied someone was influenced. That person was going to be die in short order (nothing left to chance) so I would need to move quickly, getting to them first before their “accidental” death could be arranged. Luckily I could narrow down the search. Guardsmen with healthy family relationships were highest on the list, as threats against their lives were the best leverage to ensure compliance. Knowing that it had worked in the past meant that capturing their family and torturing them in front of the guard would certainly get the information I was after, but it also meant that there was no other option. Just grabbing the guard would likely mean they kept silent to protect their loved ones. Involving the family was necessary, and unless I somehow chose the right guard from the start it would mean torturing and disposing of several guards and their immediate family as quickly as possible. Once that many families started being killed off whoever was behind my party’s disappearance was bound to figure out what was happening, devoting more resources to the coverup. Best case scenario I found the right guard and got some other information to go on. Even in that case my opponents would be killing several guards off as well, because if somehow my interrogation hadn’t worked they would need to imply that I had not picked the right one. Considering it was already obvious someone was looking for them they would also need to expand their killings to leave some ambiguity as to which one had actually been influenced, to hopefully waste time and throw me off their trail. Once the serial killings became known the guard families would become harder to access, perhaps being moved into the garrison, so in short order there would be an absolute bloodbath taking place. But maybe I could use some of my experience to my advantage. If I was in their shoes and a clever assassin I might be a compulsive liar. Even my lies might be lies, and all those guards I killed weren’t my man at all. Innocent guards would react differently than the one who had been threatened, that one would probably try to rabbit immediately. To keep attention off of them he might even be allowed to flee long enough for me to catch up with them. In any case it was going to be a long few nights ahead of me.
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	"The child, save the child." Henshaw called out to you in if rough Half-Orc voice. Lynanna left her Half-Elf form and shaped changed into her bear formand charged into the enemy, Lejus charged with her. Amun was next you, but he was healing them and holding open the portal. You could see how much this use of magic was draining him. Save the child? The child is small, even for a child, some weird smaller goblin, no one knows what it was, but you all get paid to save it. The only problem is it's still almost the size of you. You throw it on your back drop to all fours and run as fast as your scaly legs can carry you. The portal is smaller than any of your allies already. It's now or never. As you run you here Amun say "Be Safe." The portal closed as soon as you went through. You are not talkative, you are not a caregiver, and now you have a child of an unknown species to take care of. Also, where are you? Okay, it looks you are on your world. Do you know this place? If only you were better at directions. In the distance you see a town, Stoneridge. It's where you met your friends. It's where you took this stupid job. All you want is to get strong enough to kill the dragon who leads your Kobold tribe. But these were the only people who have tolerated you. On the road you see a supply wagon coming from town. You block their path. They ask you to move. You motion for them to turn around. When it appeared that they were going to go around you started generating electricity. Then you had a ride back to town. After getting off the wagon you head toward town. The guards look at peculiar creature strapped to your back. It's the most attention they've paid to you since you joined your friends. Then you hear the people from the wagon talking to the guards. You scurry into town and back to the Guildhall. They seemed surprised to see you, and ask where the rest of the party is. They then ask you to hand over the child. You stand to your proud three foot height in a posture that says no. One member comes towards you. They get jolted with electricity for their trouble. They are upset at you. You just want help getting your friends back then they can have the kid. You jolt two more as they move to attack you. You won't be able to dodge the third. You are outside. How? Why? You don't know. But the door to the Guildhall is in front of you. You hear voices above you and you see a portal, into the Guildhall. It's coming from your back. The baby. It has powerful magic, maybe it can get you back to your friends. Then you see a small partol of guards, one from the entrance to the town is with them. They have spotted you. You hate walking, you hate running, it's why you normally traveled in Henshaw's bag. You especially hate running with an unknown magic child on you back. Running through the crowd, trying not to get trampled. You know all the buildings but not where to go. The downside to not walking anywhere yourself. There's less of a crowd this way so you run that way, it's unfamiliar. Then you realize you are headed towards the manor. Guards in front of the manor, guards chasing behind you. You create a wall of electricity on top the guards in front of you. They all fo down. You open the manor door and quickly shut it and lock it behind you. Done. There are two guards looking at you puzzled. They have guards inside too? The one guard tells you to hold, while the other opens the door, the two groups of guards, and the members of the guild are outside. You take the child off your back. They are circling you, telling you to put the child down. It's so hard to talk common. "Back! Friends!" You say to the child. Hands are going for you and more hands are reaching for the child. This time you see the floor beneath you open up. So do the guards and guild members. It opens beneath everyone. Your back. Where your friends were. Creatures around you are startled. But then they start attacking the guards. The guild and the guards fight back. You run, looking for your friends. Only Henshaw remains standing, he's guarding your wounded friends. You jolt your way to him. You hold up the child, "Take! Back!" you growl. The six of you are back outside town. You go into everyone's bag, take out a potion and give it to them. It seems with them being hurt, and all the fighting, no one saw all the people you brought with you. They are asking a lot of questions. Maybe you should have left them. Lyanna starts to head to Stoneridge. "No! They no pay, we keep." you growl as you pat the child.	I am not a person. I've was aware of that simple fact when I was a young child scrounging for scraps on the streets, and I am aware of that fact now. When I first met the party, they found me eating the arm of one of the beggars in the district. They'd heard rumors of people disappearing into the night, never to be seen again, and went to investigate. Their reaction when they found me really stuck with me though, even years later. It was one of compassion more than raw horror. It confused me to no end, everyone else I had They saw a starving child forced to eat another in an attempt to survive. From then on, they cared for me, gave me food, invited me into their own home, and gave me people to talk to, and to trust... And now they're gone. gone. gone. The word rings through my head like an gong, sending my heart racing again and again. They had left me at their base for a mission, telling me it was far too dangerous for me to go with them. They were supposed to be back five days ago, two at the very latest. And they're not here. I'm alone. I'm alone for the first time in nearly ten years. They never left me alone, they were always there by my side. From my first mission with them, to the one before this one, they've been by my side the whole time. And for the first time in my life, I feel something. Pure, unadulterated rage... It only took me a month to find where they'd gone. The party had hid where they went, not giving me a clue so I wouldn't follow them in secret, but there were only so many places the quest could have come from, and I knew every single one of them. On the 16th, I hit jackpot. One of the cities about a days ride from our home had reported a bandit problem, and my party had accepted the request. I still had no clue why they hadn't let me join them, but at least I knew where they went... On the run again. When I first arrived at the city of Ciallyan, it had seemed peaceful, despite the apparent bandit problem. I got a room at the inn, planning to start information gathering the next day. That night, however, I found myself fighting off several assassins. I escaped out the window after several more trickled into the fight, one of which was wearing what appeared to be the cities' guard uniform. I have no plans to fight more than a couple of people without having access to either the party or some of my more potent weapons. Speaking of them, I should probably retrieve them from the other side of the city walls. First off, to find the back door...
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	On some level, I probably care about them. Gods, I need to stop. They don't matter to me. It doesn't matter who they are. They are objectively useful to me. They've helped me achieve my goals and that's all that matters. They're good fighters and I like to have them around in a pinch. These thoughts had been plagueing me for days. I know who I am. I'm a monster. I've killed bad men for crossing me, and better men for nothing. That is, until I started traveling with them. Târz was a decent orc. Big and brutish as he looked with his bare chest and double axes, he was actually a very thoughtful and intelligent creature. Funny. I guess my prejudices made me think he'd be a bit more like me when he recruited me to go with him and two other travelers to dispatch a gang of bandits. I figured it was just a good day's slaughter for a good days pay, but they actually cared enough to save the hostages and slaves. I'd never seen that before. It was Aelindriel who first mentioned saving them. Aelindriel? Aelindariel? Gods, I hate elvish names. Aelindel, that's it! Regardless, this elf actually went out of his way, damn near taking a bolt to the chest, just to save one slave. Wasn't a particularly useful maneuver. Could've gotten him killed, and it wasn't like the slave could fight. He was only a kid. I've still, to this very day, never seen someone take as many hits and keep getting up as he did that day. An axe wound to the shoulder didn't even stop him from carrying that kid back to the nearest town. Emotional, Elvish bastard. Probably wrote another one of his gods-damned poems about it. Still. I hope I get to hear one or two of them again. Well, I'd put up with hearing it if it meant I had his sword by my side. So I keep telling myself. I'm going to get them back. Whatever it takes. Gods damn that treacherous bastard. After a year of sticking around with these two and myself, the one human has to go and mess everything up. We'd traveled the plains of the west, the northern mountains where I grew up, and the lava fields to the south and shared many a feast over spoils from victory. I miss those times. It was just as profitable as being a bandit, and I never had to skip town over some band of "heroes" coming after me. Now look at me. My horse is, quite literally, covered in the blood of my enemies. I need to find a river or a lake or something. I can't let them zee me like this. Hell, I've got flesh in my teeth. They'd never let it fly that I tortured someone to find out where they were. On top of that, even I think that taking a chunk out of his calf might've been too far. There's no time for those thoughts now, though. I'll come to terms with who and what I am later. For now, I've got two heroes to save, a plot to expose, and a newly crowned prince to kill. Gods, I hope they never found out what I did to save them. I hope they never find out what I'm going to do. Edit: yo this is the first time I've gotten upvotes in this sub, I love you guys lmao	I am not a person. I've was aware of that simple fact when I was a young child scrounging for scraps on the streets, and I am aware of that fact now. When I first met the party, they found me eating the arm of one of the beggars in the district. They'd heard rumors of people disappearing into the night, never to be seen again, and went to investigate. Their reaction when they found me really stuck with me though, even years later. It was one of compassion more than raw horror. It confused me to no end, everyone else I had They saw a starving child forced to eat another in an attempt to survive. From then on, they cared for me, gave me food, invited me into their own home, and gave me people to talk to, and to trust... And now they're gone. gone. gone. The word rings through my head like an gong, sending my heart racing again and again. They had left me at their base for a mission, telling me it was far too dangerous for me to go with them. They were supposed to be back five days ago, two at the very latest. And they're not here. I'm alone. I'm alone for the first time in nearly ten years. They never left me alone, they were always there by my side. From my first mission with them, to the one before this one, they've been by my side the whole time. And for the first time in my life, I feel something. Pure, unadulterated rage... It only took me a month to find where they'd gone. The party had hid where they went, not giving me a clue so I wouldn't follow them in secret, but there were only so many places the quest could have come from, and I knew every single one of them. On the 16th, I hit jackpot. One of the cities about a days ride from our home had reported a bandit problem, and my party had accepted the request. I still had no clue why they hadn't let me join them, but at least I knew where they went... On the run again. When I first arrived at the city of Ciallyan, it had seemed peaceful, despite the apparent bandit problem. I got a room at the inn, planning to start information gathering the next day. That night, however, I found myself fighting off several assassins. I escaped out the window after several more trickled into the fight, one of which was wearing what appeared to be the cities' guard uniform. I have no plans to fight more than a couple of people without having access to either the party or some of my more potent weapons. Speaking of them, I should probably retrieve them from the other side of the city walls. First off, to find the back door...
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	I woke to the sound of footsteps. First thing I noticed was that it was pitch dark. Second thing I noticed was that I had a killer hangover. How much did I end up drinking last night? Let’s see… We got paid, we went for drinks at Art’s, Wes tried to flirt with the waitress, cap had a spat with Artie and... we got kicked out? Did I get arrested? Shit. A splash of icy water shocked me into motion. What the hells? I heard groaning and shuffling around me. “Who’s the asshole throwing the water around?” yelled someone to my left. “Ciara, is that you? Where the hells are we?” I said. Or tried to say, it came out more like a croak. “Park, is that you?” “What the-” A chorus of confused and just-awoken voices erupted around me. “Are we all in here?” “What in the 7th hell happened last night?” An unexpected voice chimed in from the darkness. “Hi everyone, you were brought in for questioning for the events of last week. If I can jog your memory, you were hired to spring a night-time ambush on the Traveler's House, outside of Sunset Gate.” I didn’t know who the stranger was, but the accent sounded a little western. Must be a boy from the provinces. “Quit blabbing and speak to the Captain of the Guard. We’re supposed to have an understanding,” said cap. “Oh, no. This isn’t an arrest or police action. You were involved in the abduction of some people I know and I want some answers,” The stranger replied. This guy was way too cheerful. Creepily so. “Is this some goddamn revenge fantasy? Are you actually serious right now?,” Cap let out a short laugh. “This only ends one way, kid. The Lady is gonna put you in multiple barrels and sink them to the bottom of the ocean. Cut your losses and let us go.” “Maybe. But I feel like I owe them something. I was going to leave the city and never turn back, but I think I really miss them, you know? For the first time in my life, I felt like I belonged somewhere. This is kind of a detour but... “ He trailed off. “Anyways, that’s why you’re here. I want answers and you have them.” “Nothing you can do is gonna be worse than what’s in stock for us if we talk. Try your best,” said Ciara. She always was the brave one. “I will,” said the stranger. A lantern flickered on, bringing the room into view. Over a dozen of us were sprawled out in a cell. The lantern made it difficult to see, but it looked like there was just a lone silhouette. One guy, seriously? There’s no way that just one guy could lock us up in here, was there? “Couple of questions. First, what happened to members of the Righteous Spear, Gil Guiseppe, Kaara, Flem, and Issac? Second, what is their condition? Third, where are they? And finally, who is the responsible party? Guessing this ‘Lady’ had something to do with the whole ordeal, but I’m gonna need a little more.” “Why don’t you come in and find out?” said Mort, leering. The stranger set down the lamp, and stepped to the side. Light-medium build, relatively short. Didn’t seem to be armed at all. He could definitely be mobbed if we got the drop on him. “I mean, I was seeing if I could avoid the whole interrogation thing,” The stranger shrugged. “Let’s start with a grizzled veteran who’s too dumb to spill the beans“ The stranger snapped his fingers and Mort disappeared. He reappeared on the other side of the bars, new silvery bindings appearing at his wrists and ankles. A sorcerer that could teleport people. Shit, everything got a lot more complicated. Before I could react, the stranger pulled out a dagger and rammed it into his eye. “You-you fucking psycho! I thought you were involved in a heroic party!” shouted Wes. I looked around, and everyone seemed to be in the process of realising no one was gonna get out of this alive. Stepping over Mort’s twitching body, he approached the cell again. “Emphasis on party. I’m just some miscreant they took under the wing.” The stranger pulled out another knife. “Who’s ready for round 2?” ---- 10 bodies later, the first person spoke up. 13 bodies later, a second person corroborated their story. 15 bodies later, there was no one left alive in the cell. The stranger poured some oil jugs into the cell, sparked a flame with his finger, and walked out of the basement. Checking himself for bloodstains, he walked back to the city. Whistling, he thought that this must be what righteousness felt like.	I am not a person. I've was aware of that simple fact when I was a young child scrounging for scraps on the streets, and I am aware of that fact now. When I first met the party, they found me eating the arm of one of the beggars in the district. They'd heard rumors of people disappearing into the night, never to be seen again, and went to investigate. Their reaction when they found me really stuck with me though, even years later. It was one of compassion more than raw horror. It confused me to no end, everyone else I had They saw a starving child forced to eat another in an attempt to survive. From then on, they cared for me, gave me food, invited me into their own home, and gave me people to talk to, and to trust... And now they're gone. gone. gone. The word rings through my head like an gong, sending my heart racing again and again. They had left me at their base for a mission, telling me it was far too dangerous for me to go with them. They were supposed to be back five days ago, two at the very latest. And they're not here. I'm alone. I'm alone for the first time in nearly ten years. They never left me alone, they were always there by my side. From my first mission with them, to the one before this one, they've been by my side the whole time. And for the first time in my life, I feel something. Pure, unadulterated rage... It only took me a month to find where they'd gone. The party had hid where they went, not giving me a clue so I wouldn't follow them in secret, but there were only so many places the quest could have come from, and I knew every single one of them. On the 16th, I hit jackpot. One of the cities about a days ride from our home had reported a bandit problem, and my party had accepted the request. I still had no clue why they hadn't let me join them, but at least I knew where they went... On the run again. When I first arrived at the city of Ciallyan, it had seemed peaceful, despite the apparent bandit problem. I got a room at the inn, planning to start information gathering the next day. That night, however, I found myself fighting off several assassins. I escaped out the window after several more trickled into the fight, one of which was wearing what appeared to be the cities' guard uniform. I have no plans to fight more than a couple of people without having access to either the party or some of my more potent weapons. Speaking of them, I should probably retrieve them from the other side of the city walls. First off, to find the back door...
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	After my parents died early on in my life, I wasn't the same cheerful person I always was. I started taking dangerous missions and fighting monsters I could barely beat on my own. I was aimless, without a purpose, trying to fill an endless void with mere adrenaline. It didn't work. But I was lucky, because it was at my lowest point where I found them. The void in my soul was filled, even overflowing! Five unique people, friendly, adventurous, exciting... loving. I had- correction, they had found me, and we became a tight knit family. And one day they were gone. Like they vanished out of the face of the earth, without a notice, without a word. I panicked, wondered if they left me... But I knew them, I trusted myself in what I knew about them, and I knew they wouldn't had just gone and left, without a word, without a sound. I was always my best self when around them, didn't even need to try, they were just that important to me that I wouldn't even think of anything hurtful. But they weren't here now. They were gone, something was up and they couldn't see what I was going to do to get them back. First I broke into the office of the city's leader, killed a few of his guards and interrogated him. If he knew nothing about my friends, sorry, goodbye, you never saw me. But he knew, he lied to me because he knew the people I was talking about. For each lie I cut a finger... and he lied a lot. It was too bad I had gotten used to being lied to, lying and in consequence knowing when someone was lying. After losing three of his fingers he knew I wasn't easily fooled. Then he tried to misdirect me, which also didn't work. When he finally decided it wasn't worth the pain, he let out most of what he knew. He claimed it was all, but I knew it wasn't. It didn't matter though, so I didn't comment. The five had actually gotten into a large debt before meeting me. It wasn't a simple debt either, not with how much the governor tried to cover it up. Adventuring is an expensive habit for beginners. The only reason I was able to begin a solo path in it was from my parents money in the first place. My family on the other hand had no choice but to borrow a large amount of money, for equipment, consumables, magic scrolls, etc. Their large need of money was also what led them to be more... reckless, than others. Well, it wasn't a difference from my previous activities, if anything it was safer, but it was also our first common ground. Shaking my head, I focused on the task at hand. Before they got sold off or killed for their bodies I had to get them back. Where and what would I do to get them? Well, for starters the city had to go, too hard with it in place. Thus my starting point was in an alchemist's alcove... well, former alchemist's alcove, now it was mine. Poison this, poison that... that's just stupid, just fuck up with the water and you're done. Due to not knowing if my friends would also be affected by the poison, I chose something non-lethal. Well, if everyone is on the toilet it's hard to defend against a monster rampage, isn't it? My thoughts exactly! Located near the outskirts of the city, the stronghold which was most likely holding my friends was hit first and was hit hard. Of course, I had to do a lot of work to lure a few hundred monsters to a specific part of the city, but I had dealt with worse. The gates were broken down in mere minuted without anyone to hold position and the stronghold was much the same. I continued inside what should have been my grave if I went on my own, trying to find my friends. It was hard to believe this was city sanctioned, but alas, the city needs that one more extra income source! Well, it wasn't about to continue being a source for much longer, but it still made me annoyed. Weakened people tried to fight off monsters that were in general stronger than a average adventurer. It didn't work. The city wasn't that badly affected, not many innocent individuals died, while also not many guards died. The exception was my point of focus, which barely had a door standing at the end of my stroll. The prisoners were protected in the metal cages, all weakened by my poison, but a few certain five wouldn't be for much longer. Of course, they made me share my remaining antidote with a few of the other people they made me free. This whole situation made me feel weird about myself. Would they assume I had just gone up and saved them, or would they ask? And if they asked, would I say the truth? As I stared at the beaten and rugged figures of my friends, I thought I really shouldn't had left everyone off that easily. At least I had killed off the city's leader whom seemed to be guy behind all of this. Thankfully no one was dead, I dreaded to even think of what I would had done to this poor city if that had happened... Well, to be honest, it isn't something hard to imagine. That alchemist wasn't a friendly person, I wasn't a friendly person, and when you combine the willingness of a madman with the seriousness of a scared alchemist you get really bad results.	I am not a person. I've was aware of that simple fact when I was a young child scrounging for scraps on the streets, and I am aware of that fact now. When I first met the party, they found me eating the arm of one of the beggars in the district. They'd heard rumors of people disappearing into the night, never to be seen again, and went to investigate. Their reaction when they found me really stuck with me though, even years later. It was one of compassion more than raw horror. It confused me to no end, everyone else I had They saw a starving child forced to eat another in an attempt to survive. From then on, they cared for me, gave me food, invited me into their own home, and gave me people to talk to, and to trust... And now they're gone. gone. gone. The word rings through my head like an gong, sending my heart racing again and again. They had left me at their base for a mission, telling me it was far too dangerous for me to go with them. They were supposed to be back five days ago, two at the very latest. And they're not here. I'm alone. I'm alone for the first time in nearly ten years. They never left me alone, they were always there by my side. From my first mission with them, to the one before this one, they've been by my side the whole time. And for the first time in my life, I feel something. Pure, unadulterated rage... It only took me a month to find where they'd gone. The party had hid where they went, not giving me a clue so I wouldn't follow them in secret, but there were only so many places the quest could have come from, and I knew every single one of them. On the 16th, I hit jackpot. One of the cities about a days ride from our home had reported a bandit problem, and my party had accepted the request. I still had no clue why they hadn't let me join them, but at least I knew where they went... On the run again. When I first arrived at the city of Ciallyan, it had seemed peaceful, despite the apparent bandit problem. I got a room at the inn, planning to start information gathering the next day. That night, however, I found myself fighting off several assassins. I escaped out the window after several more trickled into the fight, one of which was wearing what appeared to be the cities' guard uniform. I have no plans to fight more than a couple of people without having access to either the party or some of my more potent weapons. Speaking of them, I should probably retrieve them from the other side of the city walls. First off, to find the back door...
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	"Steel City Stalwarts, unite!" Comet Lad flew in and landed on Sergeant Static's right side. Nightshade Assassin swung down on one of her vines. Silver Cypher's armor hissed and clicked as the cooling systems compensated for the afterburners he'd used to get here. The Gray Gorrilla took the rear, his massive body throwing a shade over all of them. The team all looked ready to take on the entire force of Eric Nasty's henchman, collectively and individually. Except for one. Coming standing behind one of the Gorrilla's legs was Tigerlily, her uniform barely dusty from the fighting. She looked, as she always did, just a little like she was about to run. The Sergeant didn't seem to notice her fear. His eyes were on the tactical situation as his mind ran through strategies at lightning speed. He said, "There's no way we can find the Mayor in time as a group. We need to split up. Gray G, you clear this floor and start working up. Nightshade, you and me work our way down to the parking garage. Comet, start on the roof and meet Gray G in the middle. Cypher, hack into their cameras and find the mayor and find that bomb!" As their leader lifted Static Staff to give the call to action, Tigerlily said, "What do you need me to do boss?" Sergeant turned around and said, "Just stay here. Hold up in the courtroom over there. We'll bring the wounded to you. Heal them, then get them out. Can you handle that." The tiny lass said, "Yes sir! I won't let you down!" Sergeant Static reached out and ruffled her hair affectionately. "That's my girl. Everyone, to the rescue!" They all shouted in unison, "To the rescue!" They flew away. The Sergeant looked over his shoulder and made sure that Tigerlily made it to the courtroom where she'd wait. When they got to the door to the stairs, Nightshade Princess said, "You have to stop treating her like a kid. She's one of us. She's a superhero." Sergeant said, "She's a kid who can heal people. I'm tired of sending kids into battle, Shade." The princess of poisonous plants rolled her eyes, which contrasted with the proud smile. In the courtroom, though, Tigerlily was not smiling. Eric Nasty and fifteen of his Nastymen were standing, their weapons drawn. Eric stood over the bomb, his hands on the panel to enter the password, the last step to arming it. When he saw the white-clad healer, he drew his pistol and pointed at her. "Look what we got here! The mascot!" Tigerlily said, "You'll never defeat the Stalwarts! Just give up!" Eric stood, laughing. "Will I? And how will they defeat me, brat, without their powers?" She shook her head. "What?" Eric pointed to the bomb. "You super dummy's are all the same. I don't just mean that sickening sense of self righteousness. I mean that I figured it out. Every superhero, every one I could get a DNA sample for, you all derive your power from the same source. Would you like to know what it is? Get ready... it's aliens." The girl balled up her fists, "You're crazy." "No, I'm brilliant. I may not fly or shoot lightning or juggle sedans, but I have a power. I've got a mind sharp enough to split atoms. I also have money and I paid a lot for the remains of a very special ship recently brought up from the ocean. Atlantis was real! Aliens are real! The great pulse that turned people into superfreaks came from their technology. In a few minutes, I'm going to demosntrate all that, and unless you're wearing a countermeasure charm, like I am, say goodbye to your abilities and hello to the reign of Nasty!" Eric cackled. His men laughed and raised their blasters. And then one exploded. The room went dead. Tigerlily wasn't by the door anymore. She was standing within arms reach of where the ex-Nastyman had stood, his body now a spray of red chunks and foul smells. Eric said, "What the...?" Tigerlilly's body moved so fast that all you could see was a white blur. Her hands fell on two more. They detonated, the same way that their teammate had. She said, "No." Eric screamed, "Fire!" Tigerlily jumped as numerous bolts of light scorched the floor. She landed on the shoulders of another Nastyman. She twisted his head in a circle. Before he could fall, she leapt to another; his comrades cut him down trying to shoot her, along with the two on either side of him. Eric stopped firing. He dove for the bomb. Tigerlilly did a backflip and landed on ballet point on the top of another henchman's head. He splattered downward, his splattering like it had been dropped from the 50th floor. Tigerlilly's eyes were glass marbles, her mouth a small and straight line. She glided from soldier to soldier, each one either being ended with a quick and efficent blow or turned to vapor. Eric tapped out the password, but nerves and shaking fingers got him a "DENIED" on the screen. He tried it again. Same result. He tried to ignore the screams of his personal guard as they died all around him. "C'mon, c'mon... oh, crap that's the wrong password." He started to type in the right one, but he found he did not have a hand. He stared at the stump, weaping blood, and screamed. He looked up and saw tigerlilly, holding his hand like it was attached to an invisible crossing guard. "You don't get to speak about Atlantis," she said. "They were kind people, before the earthquake. They showed my people the first kindness we'd seen in a thousand worlds. That is, except for one. He was like you." Tigerlilly dropped the hand. Behind her, Eric could see a few corpses, but mostly he saw human sized stains. Somehow, the girl's clothes were still pristine. "He built weapons. We shared our tech at first. But then we saw what your kind might do with with it. We saw the darkness in your hearts, only too late. It sank the greatest city in your short history into the ocean. Your kind and my kind were both lost, save for a very few. We made a promise that day, one you're trying to undo." "Get away from me!" Eric shouted, trying to tie his belt around his arm stump. "For ten thousand years, I've given powers to your people. Manipulating your flesh is so easy. Eric stammered, "You... you what? But I-" "So many use them well. A few, not so much. Either way, it keeps you fighting amongst yourselves. The few of great power in an internal struggle while the rest of the world is content to wait and see what you do. "I will not see you reveal us. I will not see you try to undo ten millenia of guidance and nurturing. You, Eric, are the worst of your kind. While I will do anything it takes to see that your infant race not only remaisn thinking you're the greatest, fiercest, most dangerous creatures in the universe, but that you never advance so far that find out what really holds that title. Lucky for you that it was us, their little cousins that found you. "Now die." The doors burst open. The Sergeant and Nightshade were first. Silver Cypher flew in and said, "I knew it! This room was the only one with the cameras blocked out it had to be here!" The Sargeant yelled, "Where's Tigerlily?" A small voice said, "Here." They all turned and found her hugging her knees on the floor. Nightshade dashed, wrapping her leafy arms around the girl like a mother. "Oh T.L., did they hurt you?" The girl shook her head. "I found them like this. I think the bomb backfired." Sargeant Static said, "We should have found it faster." Cypher said, "It's okay. We all missed it." The Sargeant looked around the room. "Doesn't matter now. Let's get Tigerlilly and ourselves the hell out of here." Nightshade covered the girl's ears. "Language!" Tigerlilly giggled. "It's okay, Shade. I'm a big girl. I can take it."	I am not a person. I've was aware of that simple fact when I was a young child scrounging for scraps on the streets, and I am aware of that fact now. When I first met the party, they found me eating the arm of one of the beggars in the district. They'd heard rumors of people disappearing into the night, never to be seen again, and went to investigate. Their reaction when they found me really stuck with me though, even years later. It was one of compassion more than raw horror. It confused me to no end, everyone else I had They saw a starving child forced to eat another in an attempt to survive. From then on, they cared for me, gave me food, invited me into their own home, and gave me people to talk to, and to trust... And now they're gone. gone. gone. The word rings through my head like an gong, sending my heart racing again and again. They had left me at their base for a mission, telling me it was far too dangerous for me to go with them. They were supposed to be back five days ago, two at the very latest. And they're not here. I'm alone. I'm alone for the first time in nearly ten years. They never left me alone, they were always there by my side. From my first mission with them, to the one before this one, they've been by my side the whole time. And for the first time in my life, I feel something. Pure, unadulterated rage... It only took me a month to find where they'd gone. The party had hid where they went, not giving me a clue so I wouldn't follow them in secret, but there were only so many places the quest could have come from, and I knew every single one of them. On the 16th, I hit jackpot. One of the cities about a days ride from our home had reported a bandit problem, and my party had accepted the request. I still had no clue why they hadn't let me join them, but at least I knew where they went... On the run again. When I first arrived at the city of Ciallyan, it had seemed peaceful, despite the apparent bandit problem. I got a room at the inn, planning to start information gathering the next day. That night, however, I found myself fighting off several assassins. I escaped out the window after several more trickled into the fight, one of which was wearing what appeared to be the cities' guard uniform. I have no plans to fight more than a couple of people without having access to either the party or some of my more potent weapons. Speaking of them, I should probably retrieve them from the other side of the city walls. First off, to find the back door...
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	I am a necromancer. My party knows this. Skorndrick Gristle, the Lost, at your service. In fact, the way I've worked myself out, my spells and my fighting capabilities, I'm probably the strongest member of our party. Do any of them suspect this? No. As far as they're concerned, I'm a good person who just.... helps the dead ease into the afterlife. And if that means telling them the dead wish to help, then that's what I've done. They've even got a joke excuse for me and my enchanted shovel- it's for digging "trenches". One time I bullshitted some suspicious librarians that didn't want to loan me a necromancy book with "The dead know the truth. There is meaning behind their existence. We all die, it doesn't have to be a bad thing. They need help, and I'm here for them." Another time I told a guard I was resurrecting a dead man because he'd requested being allowed to help protect the town he'd so loved in life. That was a lie, as well. And my party believed me. Of course they did. Naturally they've had their suspicions, of course. They've even been suspicious of our Oathbreaker Paladin, but he's a paladin so he can't be that suspicious. And to help that, I've always been cautious around them. Always. I've never had a reason to make them question me, more or less. Doing bad things for the right reasons is still doing something with good intentions for the benefit of more than just yourself. I've always told myself they didn't need to see the side of me that was kicked out of the dwarven cities for my actions, that they didn't deserve to experience what those who knew me back at home did. Until now. Until that awful man took them and threatened them and hurt them and hid them away. I wasn't there with them when they need me to be. I was away, teasing bones out of the teeth of the dragon I had raised from the grave with the Oathbreaker. Each time Heskan, my dragon, consumes a living being, he becomes a little more alive, a little less skeletal, flesh and sinew regenerating into place from rotting tendrils of death magic I amplified with the Oathbreaker to bring back. We'd been recovering in the privacy of a forest grove outside of the city when it happened, and I didn't find out until the next day. I always sleep with Heskan- his ribcage has hammocks of burlap for our stuff, and it's free real estate, so why not? Some of our party jokes he's the "Bone Bus", and I'll be the first to admit that's what he's mostly for. But now that man- the general of this shit kingdom's tiny, half-assed army- has my friends. He's locked them up, lied and said they were invaders or demons or spies or whatever nonsense befit each of them in his mind. All so he could power trip over visitors. And I will not permit that. Heskan and I are outside of a three hundred year old graveyard that's housed every dead member of this city since its founding, all closely buried together to save space. That's quite a bit of fodder for me to abuse, and Heskan agrees. It won't take me long, most of the night maybe, but missing a night's worth of sleep in exchange for an undying army is well worth the cost to save my party. They're good people. And they deserve me.	I am not a person. I've was aware of that simple fact when I was a young child scrounging for scraps on the streets, and I am aware of that fact now. When I first met the party, they found me eating the arm of one of the beggars in the district. They'd heard rumors of people disappearing into the night, never to be seen again, and went to investigate. Their reaction when they found me really stuck with me though, even years later. It was one of compassion more than raw horror. It confused me to no end, everyone else I had They saw a starving child forced to eat another in an attempt to survive. From then on, they cared for me, gave me food, invited me into their own home, and gave me people to talk to, and to trust... And now they're gone. gone. gone. The word rings through my head like an gong, sending my heart racing again and again. They had left me at their base for a mission, telling me it was far too dangerous for me to go with them. They were supposed to be back five days ago, two at the very latest. And they're not here. I'm alone. I'm alone for the first time in nearly ten years. They never left me alone, they were always there by my side. From my first mission with them, to the one before this one, they've been by my side the whole time. And for the first time in my life, I feel something. Pure, unadulterated rage... It only took me a month to find where they'd gone. The party had hid where they went, not giving me a clue so I wouldn't follow them in secret, but there were only so many places the quest could have come from, and I knew every single one of them. On the 16th, I hit jackpot. One of the cities about a days ride from our home had reported a bandit problem, and my party had accepted the request. I still had no clue why they hadn't let me join them, but at least I knew where they went... On the run again. When I first arrived at the city of Ciallyan, it had seemed peaceful, despite the apparent bandit problem. I got a room at the inn, planning to start information gathering the next day. That night, however, I found myself fighting off several assassins. I escaped out the window after several more trickled into the fight, one of which was wearing what appeared to be the cities' guard uniform. I have no plans to fight more than a couple of people without having access to either the party or some of my more potent weapons. Speaking of them, I should probably retrieve them from the other side of the city walls. First off, to find the back door...
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	"The child, save the child." Henshaw called out to you in if rough Half-Orc voice. Lynanna left her Half-Elf form and shaped changed into her bear formand charged into the enemy, Lejus charged with her. Amun was next you, but he was healing them and holding open the portal. You could see how much this use of magic was draining him. Save the child? The child is small, even for a child, some weird smaller goblin, no one knows what it was, but you all get paid to save it. The only problem is it's still almost the size of you. You throw it on your back drop to all fours and run as fast as your scaly legs can carry you. The portal is smaller than any of your allies already. It's now or never. As you run you here Amun say "Be Safe." The portal closed as soon as you went through. You are not talkative, you are not a caregiver, and now you have a child of an unknown species to take care of. Also, where are you? Okay, it looks you are on your world. Do you know this place? If only you were better at directions. In the distance you see a town, Stoneridge. It's where you met your friends. It's where you took this stupid job. All you want is to get strong enough to kill the dragon who leads your Kobold tribe. But these were the only people who have tolerated you. On the road you see a supply wagon coming from town. You block their path. They ask you to move. You motion for them to turn around. When it appeared that they were going to go around you started generating electricity. Then you had a ride back to town. After getting off the wagon you head toward town. The guards look at peculiar creature strapped to your back. It's the most attention they've paid to you since you joined your friends. Then you hear the people from the wagon talking to the guards. You scurry into town and back to the Guildhall. They seemed surprised to see you, and ask where the rest of the party is. They then ask you to hand over the child. You stand to your proud three foot height in a posture that says no. One member comes towards you. They get jolted with electricity for their trouble. They are upset at you. You just want help getting your friends back then they can have the kid. You jolt two more as they move to attack you. You won't be able to dodge the third. You are outside. How? Why? You don't know. But the door to the Guildhall is in front of you. You hear voices above you and you see a portal, into the Guildhall. It's coming from your back. The baby. It has powerful magic, maybe it can get you back to your friends. Then you see a small partol of guards, one from the entrance to the town is with them. They have spotted you. You hate walking, you hate running, it's why you normally traveled in Henshaw's bag. You especially hate running with an unknown magic child on you back. Running through the crowd, trying not to get trampled. You know all the buildings but not where to go. The downside to not walking anywhere yourself. There's less of a crowd this way so you run that way, it's unfamiliar. Then you realize you are headed towards the manor. Guards in front of the manor, guards chasing behind you. You create a wall of electricity on top the guards in front of you. They all fo down. You open the manor door and quickly shut it and lock it behind you. Done. There are two guards looking at you puzzled. They have guards inside too? The one guard tells you to hold, while the other opens the door, the two groups of guards, and the members of the guild are outside. You take the child off your back. They are circling you, telling you to put the child down. It's so hard to talk common. "Back! Friends!" You say to the child. Hands are going for you and more hands are reaching for the child. This time you see the floor beneath you open up. So do the guards and guild members. It opens beneath everyone. Your back. Where your friends were. Creatures around you are startled. But then they start attacking the guards. The guild and the guards fight back. You run, looking for your friends. Only Henshaw remains standing, he's guarding your wounded friends. You jolt your way to him. You hold up the child, "Take! Back!" you growl. The six of you are back outside town. You go into everyone's bag, take out a potion and give it to them. It seems with them being hurt, and all the fighting, no one saw all the people you brought with you. They are asking a lot of questions. Maybe you should have left them. Lyanna starts to head to Stoneridge. "No! They no pay, we keep." you growl as you pat the child.	The portal sparked into life as my last movement completed its arc. You'd think that an energy portal would illuminate the oppressive darkness of the battlefield, but you'd be someone not born of hell. Anyone local would know what to expect. That dank greenness that dampens light instead of emitting it, that unmistakable void that makes hope no longer even a memory is easily recognized by anyone who's done some time in the pit. As the first lower level demons came through I was starting to feel the old twinges of bloodlust lapping at the carefully built up facade of humanity. I watched the demons shiver in excitement at the thrill of upcoming slaughter. I felt that shiver myself and I reveled in it. The gesture that started the slaughter came so naturally I didn't even notice making it. All these years of suppressing what I am. Of contstraining the inferno that is I. Limiting it to what is "human", did not make me forget anything. Instead, each action that awoke one of the parts of my true self now felt as an additional thrill. As the initial wave of demons crashed over the trolls protecting the entrance to the cave that swallowed my companions no more than an hour ago, I made another movement. The demons having felled the giant forest trolls that seemed impossibly strong to a mere human, fell back. Like well trained puppies, they waited for the command that would allow them to have some fun with the orcish inhabitants of the village that surrounded the entrance of the cave that was the only thing that mattered to me now. Asmodeth stepped through the portal first. If you've never seen a knight of hell entering a room before, you'd be forgiven for invoulntarily abandoning any pretense that what you up until that moment thought of as a meaningful life was in fact an empty existence, devoid of purpose. You would come to that realization for many reasons. Highest among them would likely be the absolute perfection of her form as a destroyer. She stands seven feet tall, unless she's feeling underappreciated, at which point she stretches herself to the full nine. All of that is muscle and venomous spikes, constructed to be the ultimate in sheer battlefield domination. She's entered battles before and emerged unscathed as the lone survivor, both sides of the battle consigned to ignominy of not being in the written histories. That's the thing about Asmodeth, she doesn't care about the sides. She does what I desire, and I didn't used to care about either side of the battle. All that mattered was the fallen. I cared now... Jared, with that jagged scar running across his face that made him look fearsome until you spent some time with him at a campfire and listened to the stories full of love, loss and longing. Ariel, of the pointed ears and the tinkling laugh. He made your heart skip a beat just looking at him, even as he sliced through the throngs of enemies we faced together throughout this past year. Ot'eth, of the Southern Forge, the hardest mage ever produced by the unique conditions of that terrible place that was designed to melt away anything that was not in the service of making the spells sing with power. The poems that she muttered under her breath were like the most beautiful perls of soul in word form. She would share them with you once you'd spent enough nights together drinking Hivish elixir. They were all in that cave. Now as Bradthfet slithered across the Portal, I finally took off the mask. As my horns came free, time paused momentarily and the world had to adjust to the horns now being part of it. A few islands far in the ocean sank to equalize the energy differential that the horns created. The knights, now lined up in an attack pattern, visibly shook. It was a shake of anticipation. They knew what was coming next. I did not make them wait. With a slight movement of the head, the horns now pointed to the cave. I roared...
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	On some level, I probably care about them. Gods, I need to stop. They don't matter to me. It doesn't matter who they are. They are objectively useful to me. They've helped me achieve my goals and that's all that matters. They're good fighters and I like to have them around in a pinch. These thoughts had been plagueing me for days. I know who I am. I'm a monster. I've killed bad men for crossing me, and better men for nothing. That is, until I started traveling with them. Târz was a decent orc. Big and brutish as he looked with his bare chest and double axes, he was actually a very thoughtful and intelligent creature. Funny. I guess my prejudices made me think he'd be a bit more like me when he recruited me to go with him and two other travelers to dispatch a gang of bandits. I figured it was just a good day's slaughter for a good days pay, but they actually cared enough to save the hostages and slaves. I'd never seen that before. It was Aelindriel who first mentioned saving them. Aelindriel? Aelindariel? Gods, I hate elvish names. Aelindel, that's it! Regardless, this elf actually went out of his way, damn near taking a bolt to the chest, just to save one slave. Wasn't a particularly useful maneuver. Could've gotten him killed, and it wasn't like the slave could fight. He was only a kid. I've still, to this very day, never seen someone take as many hits and keep getting up as he did that day. An axe wound to the shoulder didn't even stop him from carrying that kid back to the nearest town. Emotional, Elvish bastard. Probably wrote another one of his gods-damned poems about it. Still. I hope I get to hear one or two of them again. Well, I'd put up with hearing it if it meant I had his sword by my side. So I keep telling myself. I'm going to get them back. Whatever it takes. Gods damn that treacherous bastard. After a year of sticking around with these two and myself, the one human has to go and mess everything up. We'd traveled the plains of the west, the northern mountains where I grew up, and the lava fields to the south and shared many a feast over spoils from victory. I miss those times. It was just as profitable as being a bandit, and I never had to skip town over some band of "heroes" coming after me. Now look at me. My horse is, quite literally, covered in the blood of my enemies. I need to find a river or a lake or something. I can't let them zee me like this. Hell, I've got flesh in my teeth. They'd never let it fly that I tortured someone to find out where they were. On top of that, even I think that taking a chunk out of his calf might've been too far. There's no time for those thoughts now, though. I'll come to terms with who and what I am later. For now, I've got two heroes to save, a plot to expose, and a newly crowned prince to kill. Gods, I hope they never found out what I did to save them. I hope they never find out what I'm going to do. Edit: yo this is the first time I've gotten upvotes in this sub, I love you guys lmao	The portal sparked into life as my last movement completed its arc. You'd think that an energy portal would illuminate the oppressive darkness of the battlefield, but you'd be someone not born of hell. Anyone local would know what to expect. That dank greenness that dampens light instead of emitting it, that unmistakable void that makes hope no longer even a memory is easily recognized by anyone who's done some time in the pit. As the first lower level demons came through I was starting to feel the old twinges of bloodlust lapping at the carefully built up facade of humanity. I watched the demons shiver in excitement at the thrill of upcoming slaughter. I felt that shiver myself and I reveled in it. The gesture that started the slaughter came so naturally I didn't even notice making it. All these years of suppressing what I am. Of contstraining the inferno that is I. Limiting it to what is "human", did not make me forget anything. Instead, each action that awoke one of the parts of my true self now felt as an additional thrill. As the initial wave of demons crashed over the trolls protecting the entrance to the cave that swallowed my companions no more than an hour ago, I made another movement. The demons having felled the giant forest trolls that seemed impossibly strong to a mere human, fell back. Like well trained puppies, they waited for the command that would allow them to have some fun with the orcish inhabitants of the village that surrounded the entrance of the cave that was the only thing that mattered to me now. Asmodeth stepped through the portal first. If you've never seen a knight of hell entering a room before, you'd be forgiven for invoulntarily abandoning any pretense that what you up until that moment thought of as a meaningful life was in fact an empty existence, devoid of purpose. You would come to that realization for many reasons. Highest among them would likely be the absolute perfection of her form as a destroyer. She stands seven feet tall, unless she's feeling underappreciated, at which point she stretches herself to the full nine. All of that is muscle and venomous spikes, constructed to be the ultimate in sheer battlefield domination. She's entered battles before and emerged unscathed as the lone survivor, both sides of the battle consigned to ignominy of not being in the written histories. That's the thing about Asmodeth, she doesn't care about the sides. She does what I desire, and I didn't used to care about either side of the battle. All that mattered was the fallen. I cared now... Jared, with that jagged scar running across his face that made him look fearsome until you spent some time with him at a campfire and listened to the stories full of love, loss and longing. Ariel, of the pointed ears and the tinkling laugh. He made your heart skip a beat just looking at him, even as he sliced through the throngs of enemies we faced together throughout this past year. Ot'eth, of the Southern Forge, the hardest mage ever produced by the unique conditions of that terrible place that was designed to melt away anything that was not in the service of making the spells sing with power. The poems that she muttered under her breath were like the most beautiful perls of soul in word form. She would share them with you once you'd spent enough nights together drinking Hivish elixir. They were all in that cave. Now as Bradthfet slithered across the Portal, I finally took off the mask. As my horns came free, time paused momentarily and the world had to adjust to the horns now being part of it. A few islands far in the ocean sank to equalize the energy differential that the horns created. The knights, now lined up in an attack pattern, visibly shook. It was a shake of anticipation. They knew what was coming next. I did not make them wait. With a slight movement of the head, the horns now pointed to the cave. I roared...
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	"Steel City Stalwarts, unite!" Comet Lad flew in and landed on Sergeant Static's right side. Nightshade Assassin swung down on one of her vines. Silver Cypher's armor hissed and clicked as the cooling systems compensated for the afterburners he'd used to get here. The Gray Gorrilla took the rear, his massive body throwing a shade over all of them. The team all looked ready to take on the entire force of Eric Nasty's henchman, collectively and individually. Except for one. Coming standing behind one of the Gorrilla's legs was Tigerlily, her uniform barely dusty from the fighting. She looked, as she always did, just a little like she was about to run. The Sergeant didn't seem to notice her fear. His eyes were on the tactical situation as his mind ran through strategies at lightning speed. He said, "There's no way we can find the Mayor in time as a group. We need to split up. Gray G, you clear this floor and start working up. Nightshade, you and me work our way down to the parking garage. Comet, start on the roof and meet Gray G in the middle. Cypher, hack into their cameras and find the mayor and find that bomb!" As their leader lifted Static Staff to give the call to action, Tigerlily said, "What do you need me to do boss?" Sergeant turned around and said, "Just stay here. Hold up in the courtroom over there. We'll bring the wounded to you. Heal them, then get them out. Can you handle that." The tiny lass said, "Yes sir! I won't let you down!" Sergeant Static reached out and ruffled her hair affectionately. "That's my girl. Everyone, to the rescue!" They all shouted in unison, "To the rescue!" They flew away. The Sergeant looked over his shoulder and made sure that Tigerlily made it to the courtroom where she'd wait. When they got to the door to the stairs, Nightshade Princess said, "You have to stop treating her like a kid. She's one of us. She's a superhero." Sergeant said, "She's a kid who can heal people. I'm tired of sending kids into battle, Shade." The princess of poisonous plants rolled her eyes, which contrasted with the proud smile. In the courtroom, though, Tigerlily was not smiling. Eric Nasty and fifteen of his Nastymen were standing, their weapons drawn. Eric stood over the bomb, his hands on the panel to enter the password, the last step to arming it. When he saw the white-clad healer, he drew his pistol and pointed at her. "Look what we got here! The mascot!" Tigerlily said, "You'll never defeat the Stalwarts! Just give up!" Eric stood, laughing. "Will I? And how will they defeat me, brat, without their powers?" She shook her head. "What?" Eric pointed to the bomb. "You super dummy's are all the same. I don't just mean that sickening sense of self righteousness. I mean that I figured it out. Every superhero, every one I could get a DNA sample for, you all derive your power from the same source. Would you like to know what it is? Get ready... it's aliens." The girl balled up her fists, "You're crazy." "No, I'm brilliant. I may not fly or shoot lightning or juggle sedans, but I have a power. I've got a mind sharp enough to split atoms. I also have money and I paid a lot for the remains of a very special ship recently brought up from the ocean. Atlantis was real! Aliens are real! The great pulse that turned people into superfreaks came from their technology. In a few minutes, I'm going to demosntrate all that, and unless you're wearing a countermeasure charm, like I am, say goodbye to your abilities and hello to the reign of Nasty!" Eric cackled. His men laughed and raised their blasters. And then one exploded. The room went dead. Tigerlily wasn't by the door anymore. She was standing within arms reach of where the ex-Nastyman had stood, his body now a spray of red chunks and foul smells. Eric said, "What the...?" Tigerlilly's body moved so fast that all you could see was a white blur. Her hands fell on two more. They detonated, the same way that their teammate had. She said, "No." Eric screamed, "Fire!" Tigerlily jumped as numerous bolts of light scorched the floor. She landed on the shoulders of another Nastyman. She twisted his head in a circle. Before he could fall, she leapt to another; his comrades cut him down trying to shoot her, along with the two on either side of him. Eric stopped firing. He dove for the bomb. Tigerlilly did a backflip and landed on ballet point on the top of another henchman's head. He splattered downward, his splattering like it had been dropped from the 50th floor. Tigerlilly's eyes were glass marbles, her mouth a small and straight line. She glided from soldier to soldier, each one either being ended with a quick and efficent blow or turned to vapor. Eric tapped out the password, but nerves and shaking fingers got him a "DENIED" on the screen. He tried it again. Same result. He tried to ignore the screams of his personal guard as they died all around him. "C'mon, c'mon... oh, crap that's the wrong password." He started to type in the right one, but he found he did not have a hand. He stared at the stump, weaping blood, and screamed. He looked up and saw tigerlilly, holding his hand like it was attached to an invisible crossing guard. "You don't get to speak about Atlantis," she said. "They were kind people, before the earthquake. They showed my people the first kindness we'd seen in a thousand worlds. That is, except for one. He was like you." Tigerlilly dropped the hand. Behind her, Eric could see a few corpses, but mostly he saw human sized stains. Somehow, the girl's clothes were still pristine. "He built weapons. We shared our tech at first. But then we saw what your kind might do with with it. We saw the darkness in your hearts, only too late. It sank the greatest city in your short history into the ocean. Your kind and my kind were both lost, save for a very few. We made a promise that day, one you're trying to undo." "Get away from me!" Eric shouted, trying to tie his belt around his arm stump. "For ten thousand years, I've given powers to your people. Manipulating your flesh is so easy. Eric stammered, "You... you what? But I-" "So many use them well. A few, not so much. Either way, it keeps you fighting amongst yourselves. The few of great power in an internal struggle while the rest of the world is content to wait and see what you do. "I will not see you reveal us. I will not see you try to undo ten millenia of guidance and nurturing. You, Eric, are the worst of your kind. While I will do anything it takes to see that your infant race not only remaisn thinking you're the greatest, fiercest, most dangerous creatures in the universe, but that you never advance so far that find out what really holds that title. Lucky for you that it was us, their little cousins that found you. "Now die." The doors burst open. The Sergeant and Nightshade were first. Silver Cypher flew in and said, "I knew it! This room was the only one with the cameras blocked out it had to be here!" The Sargeant yelled, "Where's Tigerlily?" A small voice said, "Here." They all turned and found her hugging her knees on the floor. Nightshade dashed, wrapping her leafy arms around the girl like a mother. "Oh T.L., did they hurt you?" The girl shook her head. "I found them like this. I think the bomb backfired." Sargeant Static said, "We should have found it faster." Cypher said, "It's okay. We all missed it." The Sargeant looked around the room. "Doesn't matter now. Let's get Tigerlilly and ourselves the hell out of here." Nightshade covered the girl's ears. "Language!" Tigerlilly giggled. "It's okay, Shade. I'm a big girl. I can take it."	The portal sparked into life as my last movement completed its arc. You'd think that an energy portal would illuminate the oppressive darkness of the battlefield, but you'd be someone not born of hell. Anyone local would know what to expect. That dank greenness that dampens light instead of emitting it, that unmistakable void that makes hope no longer even a memory is easily recognized by anyone who's done some time in the pit. As the first lower level demons came through I was starting to feel the old twinges of bloodlust lapping at the carefully built up facade of humanity. I watched the demons shiver in excitement at the thrill of upcoming slaughter. I felt that shiver myself and I reveled in it. The gesture that started the slaughter came so naturally I didn't even notice making it. All these years of suppressing what I am. Of contstraining the inferno that is I. Limiting it to what is "human", did not make me forget anything. Instead, each action that awoke one of the parts of my true self now felt as an additional thrill. As the initial wave of demons crashed over the trolls protecting the entrance to the cave that swallowed my companions no more than an hour ago, I made another movement. The demons having felled the giant forest trolls that seemed impossibly strong to a mere human, fell back. Like well trained puppies, they waited for the command that would allow them to have some fun with the orcish inhabitants of the village that surrounded the entrance of the cave that was the only thing that mattered to me now. Asmodeth stepped through the portal first. If you've never seen a knight of hell entering a room before, you'd be forgiven for invoulntarily abandoning any pretense that what you up until that moment thought of as a meaningful life was in fact an empty existence, devoid of purpose. You would come to that realization for many reasons. Highest among them would likely be the absolute perfection of her form as a destroyer. She stands seven feet tall, unless she's feeling underappreciated, at which point she stretches herself to the full nine. All of that is muscle and venomous spikes, constructed to be the ultimate in sheer battlefield domination. She's entered battles before and emerged unscathed as the lone survivor, both sides of the battle consigned to ignominy of not being in the written histories. That's the thing about Asmodeth, she doesn't care about the sides. She does what I desire, and I didn't used to care about either side of the battle. All that mattered was the fallen. I cared now... Jared, with that jagged scar running across his face that made him look fearsome until you spent some time with him at a campfire and listened to the stories full of love, loss and longing. Ariel, of the pointed ears and the tinkling laugh. He made your heart skip a beat just looking at him, even as he sliced through the throngs of enemies we faced together throughout this past year. Ot'eth, of the Southern Forge, the hardest mage ever produced by the unique conditions of that terrible place that was designed to melt away anything that was not in the service of making the spells sing with power. The poems that she muttered under her breath were like the most beautiful perls of soul in word form. She would share them with you once you'd spent enough nights together drinking Hivish elixir. They were all in that cave. Now as Bradthfet slithered across the Portal, I finally took off the mask. As my horns came free, time paused momentarily and the world had to adjust to the horns now being part of it. A few islands far in the ocean sank to equalize the energy differential that the horns created. The knights, now lined up in an attack pattern, visibly shook. It was a shake of anticipation. They knew what was coming next. I did not make them wait. With a slight movement of the head, the horns now pointed to the cave. I roared...
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	I am a necromancer. My party knows this. Skorndrick Gristle, the Lost, at your service. In fact, the way I've worked myself out, my spells and my fighting capabilities, I'm probably the strongest member of our party. Do any of them suspect this? No. As far as they're concerned, I'm a good person who just.... helps the dead ease into the afterlife. And if that means telling them the dead wish to help, then that's what I've done. They've even got a joke excuse for me and my enchanted shovel- it's for digging "trenches". One time I bullshitted some suspicious librarians that didn't want to loan me a necromancy book with "The dead know the truth. There is meaning behind their existence. We all die, it doesn't have to be a bad thing. They need help, and I'm here for them." Another time I told a guard I was resurrecting a dead man because he'd requested being allowed to help protect the town he'd so loved in life. That was a lie, as well. And my party believed me. Of course they did. Naturally they've had their suspicions, of course. They've even been suspicious of our Oathbreaker Paladin, but he's a paladin so he can't be that suspicious. And to help that, I've always been cautious around them. Always. I've never had a reason to make them question me, more or less. Doing bad things for the right reasons is still doing something with good intentions for the benefit of more than just yourself. I've always told myself they didn't need to see the side of me that was kicked out of the dwarven cities for my actions, that they didn't deserve to experience what those who knew me back at home did. Until now. Until that awful man took them and threatened them and hurt them and hid them away. I wasn't there with them when they need me to be. I was away, teasing bones out of the teeth of the dragon I had raised from the grave with the Oathbreaker. Each time Heskan, my dragon, consumes a living being, he becomes a little more alive, a little less skeletal, flesh and sinew regenerating into place from rotting tendrils of death magic I amplified with the Oathbreaker to bring back. We'd been recovering in the privacy of a forest grove outside of the city when it happened, and I didn't find out until the next day. I always sleep with Heskan- his ribcage has hammocks of burlap for our stuff, and it's free real estate, so why not? Some of our party jokes he's the "Bone Bus", and I'll be the first to admit that's what he's mostly for. But now that man- the general of this shit kingdom's tiny, half-assed army- has my friends. He's locked them up, lied and said they were invaders or demons or spies or whatever nonsense befit each of them in his mind. All so he could power trip over visitors. And I will not permit that. Heskan and I are outside of a three hundred year old graveyard that's housed every dead member of this city since its founding, all closely buried together to save space. That's quite a bit of fodder for me to abuse, and Heskan agrees. It won't take me long, most of the night maybe, but missing a night's worth of sleep in exchange for an undying army is well worth the cost to save my party. They're good people. And they deserve me.	The portal sparked into life as my last movement completed its arc. You'd think that an energy portal would illuminate the oppressive darkness of the battlefield, but you'd be someone not born of hell. Anyone local would know what to expect. That dank greenness that dampens light instead of emitting it, that unmistakable void that makes hope no longer even a memory is easily recognized by anyone who's done some time in the pit. As the first lower level demons came through I was starting to feel the old twinges of bloodlust lapping at the carefully built up facade of humanity. I watched the demons shiver in excitement at the thrill of upcoming slaughter. I felt that shiver myself and I reveled in it. The gesture that started the slaughter came so naturally I didn't even notice making it. All these years of suppressing what I am. Of contstraining the inferno that is I. Limiting it to what is "human", did not make me forget anything. Instead, each action that awoke one of the parts of my true self now felt as an additional thrill. As the initial wave of demons crashed over the trolls protecting the entrance to the cave that swallowed my companions no more than an hour ago, I made another movement. The demons having felled the giant forest trolls that seemed impossibly strong to a mere human, fell back. Like well trained puppies, they waited for the command that would allow them to have some fun with the orcish inhabitants of the village that surrounded the entrance of the cave that was the only thing that mattered to me now. Asmodeth stepped through the portal first. If you've never seen a knight of hell entering a room before, you'd be forgiven for invoulntarily abandoning any pretense that what you up until that moment thought of as a meaningful life was in fact an empty existence, devoid of purpose. You would come to that realization for many reasons. Highest among them would likely be the absolute perfection of her form as a destroyer. She stands seven feet tall, unless she's feeling underappreciated, at which point she stretches herself to the full nine. All of that is muscle and venomous spikes, constructed to be the ultimate in sheer battlefield domination. She's entered battles before and emerged unscathed as the lone survivor, both sides of the battle consigned to ignominy of not being in the written histories. That's the thing about Asmodeth, she doesn't care about the sides. She does what I desire, and I didn't used to care about either side of the battle. All that mattered was the fallen. I cared now... Jared, with that jagged scar running across his face that made him look fearsome until you spent some time with him at a campfire and listened to the stories full of love, loss and longing. Ariel, of the pointed ears and the tinkling laugh. He made your heart skip a beat just looking at him, even as he sliced through the throngs of enemies we faced together throughout this past year. Ot'eth, of the Southern Forge, the hardest mage ever produced by the unique conditions of that terrible place that was designed to melt away anything that was not in the service of making the spells sing with power. The poems that she muttered under her breath were like the most beautiful perls of soul in word form. She would share them with you once you'd spent enough nights together drinking Hivish elixir. They were all in that cave. Now as Bradthfet slithered across the Portal, I finally took off the mask. As my horns came free, time paused momentarily and the world had to adjust to the horns now being part of it. A few islands far in the ocean sank to equalize the energy differential that the horns created. The knights, now lined up in an attack pattern, visibly shook. It was a shake of anticipation. They knew what was coming next. I did not make them wait. With a slight movement of the head, the horns now pointed to the cave. I roared...
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	"Steel City Stalwarts, unite!" Comet Lad flew in and landed on Sergeant Static's right side. Nightshade Assassin swung down on one of her vines. Silver Cypher's armor hissed and clicked as the cooling systems compensated for the afterburners he'd used to get here. The Gray Gorrilla took the rear, his massive body throwing a shade over all of them. The team all looked ready to take on the entire force of Eric Nasty's henchman, collectively and individually. Except for one. Coming standing behind one of the Gorrilla's legs was Tigerlily, her uniform barely dusty from the fighting. She looked, as she always did, just a little like she was about to run. The Sergeant didn't seem to notice her fear. His eyes were on the tactical situation as his mind ran through strategies at lightning speed. He said, "There's no way we can find the Mayor in time as a group. We need to split up. Gray G, you clear this floor and start working up. Nightshade, you and me work our way down to the parking garage. Comet, start on the roof and meet Gray G in the middle. Cypher, hack into their cameras and find the mayor and find that bomb!" As their leader lifted Static Staff to give the call to action, Tigerlily said, "What do you need me to do boss?" Sergeant turned around and said, "Just stay here. Hold up in the courtroom over there. We'll bring the wounded to you. Heal them, then get them out. Can you handle that." The tiny lass said, "Yes sir! I won't let you down!" Sergeant Static reached out and ruffled her hair affectionately. "That's my girl. Everyone, to the rescue!" They all shouted in unison, "To the rescue!" They flew away. The Sergeant looked over his shoulder and made sure that Tigerlily made it to the courtroom where she'd wait. When they got to the door to the stairs, Nightshade Princess said, "You have to stop treating her like a kid. She's one of us. She's a superhero." Sergeant said, "She's a kid who can heal people. I'm tired of sending kids into battle, Shade." The princess of poisonous plants rolled her eyes, which contrasted with the proud smile. In the courtroom, though, Tigerlily was not smiling. Eric Nasty and fifteen of his Nastymen were standing, their weapons drawn. Eric stood over the bomb, his hands on the panel to enter the password, the last step to arming it. When he saw the white-clad healer, he drew his pistol and pointed at her. "Look what we got here! The mascot!" Tigerlily said, "You'll never defeat the Stalwarts! Just give up!" Eric stood, laughing. "Will I? And how will they defeat me, brat, without their powers?" She shook her head. "What?" Eric pointed to the bomb. "You super dummy's are all the same. I don't just mean that sickening sense of self righteousness. I mean that I figured it out. Every superhero, every one I could get a DNA sample for, you all derive your power from the same source. Would you like to know what it is? Get ready... it's aliens." The girl balled up her fists, "You're crazy." "No, I'm brilliant. I may not fly or shoot lightning or juggle sedans, but I have a power. I've got a mind sharp enough to split atoms. I also have money and I paid a lot for the remains of a very special ship recently brought up from the ocean. Atlantis was real! Aliens are real! The great pulse that turned people into superfreaks came from their technology. In a few minutes, I'm going to demosntrate all that, and unless you're wearing a countermeasure charm, like I am, say goodbye to your abilities and hello to the reign of Nasty!" Eric cackled. His men laughed and raised their blasters. And then one exploded. The room went dead. Tigerlily wasn't by the door anymore. She was standing within arms reach of where the ex-Nastyman had stood, his body now a spray of red chunks and foul smells. Eric said, "What the...?" Tigerlilly's body moved so fast that all you could see was a white blur. Her hands fell on two more. They detonated, the same way that their teammate had. She said, "No." Eric screamed, "Fire!" Tigerlily jumped as numerous bolts of light scorched the floor. She landed on the shoulders of another Nastyman. She twisted his head in a circle. Before he could fall, she leapt to another; his comrades cut him down trying to shoot her, along with the two on either side of him. Eric stopped firing. He dove for the bomb. Tigerlilly did a backflip and landed on ballet point on the top of another henchman's head. He splattered downward, his splattering like it had been dropped from the 50th floor. Tigerlilly's eyes were glass marbles, her mouth a small and straight line. She glided from soldier to soldier, each one either being ended with a quick and efficent blow or turned to vapor. Eric tapped out the password, but nerves and shaking fingers got him a "DENIED" on the screen. He tried it again. Same result. He tried to ignore the screams of his personal guard as they died all around him. "C'mon, c'mon... oh, crap that's the wrong password." He started to type in the right one, but he found he did not have a hand. He stared at the stump, weaping blood, and screamed. He looked up and saw tigerlilly, holding his hand like it was attached to an invisible crossing guard. "You don't get to speak about Atlantis," she said. "They were kind people, before the earthquake. They showed my people the first kindness we'd seen in a thousand worlds. That is, except for one. He was like you." Tigerlilly dropped the hand. Behind her, Eric could see a few corpses, but mostly he saw human sized stains. Somehow, the girl's clothes were still pristine. "He built weapons. We shared our tech at first. But then we saw what your kind might do with with it. We saw the darkness in your hearts, only too late. It sank the greatest city in your short history into the ocean. Your kind and my kind were both lost, save for a very few. We made a promise that day, one you're trying to undo." "Get away from me!" Eric shouted, trying to tie his belt around his arm stump. "For ten thousand years, I've given powers to your people. Manipulating your flesh is so easy. Eric stammered, "You... you what? But I-" "So many use them well. A few, not so much. Either way, it keeps you fighting amongst yourselves. The few of great power in an internal struggle while the rest of the world is content to wait and see what you do. "I will not see you reveal us. I will not see you try to undo ten millenia of guidance and nurturing. You, Eric, are the worst of your kind. While I will do anything it takes to see that your infant race not only remaisn thinking you're the greatest, fiercest, most dangerous creatures in the universe, but that you never advance so far that find out what really holds that title. Lucky for you that it was us, their little cousins that found you. "Now die." The doors burst open. The Sergeant and Nightshade were first. Silver Cypher flew in and said, "I knew it! This room was the only one with the cameras blocked out it had to be here!" The Sargeant yelled, "Where's Tigerlily?" A small voice said, "Here." They all turned and found her hugging her knees on the floor. Nightshade dashed, wrapping her leafy arms around the girl like a mother. "Oh T.L., did they hurt you?" The girl shook her head. "I found them like this. I think the bomb backfired." Sargeant Static said, "We should have found it faster." Cypher said, "It's okay. We all missed it." The Sargeant looked around the room. "Doesn't matter now. Let's get Tigerlilly and ourselves the hell out of here." Nightshade covered the girl's ears. "Language!" Tigerlilly giggled. "It's okay, Shade. I'm a big girl. I can take it."	"The child, save the child." Henshaw called out to you in if rough Half-Orc voice. Lynanna left her Half-Elf form and shaped changed into her bear formand charged into the enemy, Lejus charged with her. Amun was next you, but he was healing them and holding open the portal. You could see how much this use of magic was draining him. Save the child? The child is small, even for a child, some weird smaller goblin, no one knows what it was, but you all get paid to save it. The only problem is it's still almost the size of you. You throw it on your back drop to all fours and run as fast as your scaly legs can carry you. The portal is smaller than any of your allies already. It's now or never. As you run you here Amun say "Be Safe." The portal closed as soon as you went through. You are not talkative, you are not a caregiver, and now you have a child of an unknown species to take care of. Also, where are you? Okay, it looks you are on your world. Do you know this place? If only you were better at directions. In the distance you see a town, Stoneridge. It's where you met your friends. It's where you took this stupid job. All you want is to get strong enough to kill the dragon who leads your Kobold tribe. But these were the only people who have tolerated you. On the road you see a supply wagon coming from town. You block their path. They ask you to move. You motion for them to turn around. When it appeared that they were going to go around you started generating electricity. Then you had a ride back to town. After getting off the wagon you head toward town. The guards look at peculiar creature strapped to your back. It's the most attention they've paid to you since you joined your friends. Then you hear the people from the wagon talking to the guards. You scurry into town and back to the Guildhall. They seemed surprised to see you, and ask where the rest of the party is. They then ask you to hand over the child. You stand to your proud three foot height in a posture that says no. One member comes towards you. They get jolted with electricity for their trouble. They are upset at you. You just want help getting your friends back then they can have the kid. You jolt two more as they move to attack you. You won't be able to dodge the third. You are outside. How? Why? You don't know. But the door to the Guildhall is in front of you. You hear voices above you and you see a portal, into the Guildhall. It's coming from your back. The baby. It has powerful magic, maybe it can get you back to your friends. Then you see a small partol of guards, one from the entrance to the town is with them. They have spotted you. You hate walking, you hate running, it's why you normally traveled in Henshaw's bag. You especially hate running with an unknown magic child on you back. Running through the crowd, trying not to get trampled. You know all the buildings but not where to go. The downside to not walking anywhere yourself. There's less of a crowd this way so you run that way, it's unfamiliar. Then you realize you are headed towards the manor. Guards in front of the manor, guards chasing behind you. You create a wall of electricity on top the guards in front of you. They all fo down. You open the manor door and quickly shut it and lock it behind you. Done. There are two guards looking at you puzzled. They have guards inside too? The one guard tells you to hold, while the other opens the door, the two groups of guards, and the members of the guild are outside. You take the child off your back. They are circling you, telling you to put the child down. It's so hard to talk common. "Back! Friends!" You say to the child. Hands are going for you and more hands are reaching for the child. This time you see the floor beneath you open up. So do the guards and guild members. It opens beneath everyone. Your back. Where your friends were. Creatures around you are startled. But then they start attacking the guards. The guild and the guards fight back. You run, looking for your friends. Only Henshaw remains standing, he's guarding your wounded friends. You jolt your way to him. You hold up the child, "Take! Back!" you growl. The six of you are back outside town. You go into everyone's bag, take out a potion and give it to them. It seems with them being hurt, and all the fighting, no one saw all the people you brought with you. They are asking a lot of questions. Maybe you should have left them. Lyanna starts to head to Stoneridge. "No! They no pay, we keep." you growl as you pat the child.
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	I am a necromancer. My party knows this. Skorndrick Gristle, the Lost, at your service. In fact, the way I've worked myself out, my spells and my fighting capabilities, I'm probably the strongest member of our party. Do any of them suspect this? No. As far as they're concerned, I'm a good person who just.... helps the dead ease into the afterlife. And if that means telling them the dead wish to help, then that's what I've done. They've even got a joke excuse for me and my enchanted shovel- it's for digging "trenches". One time I bullshitted some suspicious librarians that didn't want to loan me a necromancy book with "The dead know the truth. There is meaning behind their existence. We all die, it doesn't have to be a bad thing. They need help, and I'm here for them." Another time I told a guard I was resurrecting a dead man because he'd requested being allowed to help protect the town he'd so loved in life. That was a lie, as well. And my party believed me. Of course they did. Naturally they've had their suspicions, of course. They've even been suspicious of our Oathbreaker Paladin, but he's a paladin so he can't be that suspicious. And to help that, I've always been cautious around them. Always. I've never had a reason to make them question me, more or less. Doing bad things for the right reasons is still doing something with good intentions for the benefit of more than just yourself. I've always told myself they didn't need to see the side of me that was kicked out of the dwarven cities for my actions, that they didn't deserve to experience what those who knew me back at home did. Until now. Until that awful man took them and threatened them and hurt them and hid them away. I wasn't there with them when they need me to be. I was away, teasing bones out of the teeth of the dragon I had raised from the grave with the Oathbreaker. Each time Heskan, my dragon, consumes a living being, he becomes a little more alive, a little less skeletal, flesh and sinew regenerating into place from rotting tendrils of death magic I amplified with the Oathbreaker to bring back. We'd been recovering in the privacy of a forest grove outside of the city when it happened, and I didn't find out until the next day. I always sleep with Heskan- his ribcage has hammocks of burlap for our stuff, and it's free real estate, so why not? Some of our party jokes he's the "Bone Bus", and I'll be the first to admit that's what he's mostly for. But now that man- the general of this shit kingdom's tiny, half-assed army- has my friends. He's locked them up, lied and said they were invaders or demons or spies or whatever nonsense befit each of them in his mind. All so he could power trip over visitors. And I will not permit that. Heskan and I are outside of a three hundred year old graveyard that's housed every dead member of this city since its founding, all closely buried together to save space. That's quite a bit of fodder for me to abuse, and Heskan agrees. It won't take me long, most of the night maybe, but missing a night's worth of sleep in exchange for an undying army is well worth the cost to save my party. They're good people. And they deserve me.	"The child, save the child." Henshaw called out to you in if rough Half-Orc voice. Lynanna left her Half-Elf form and shaped changed into her bear formand charged into the enemy, Lejus charged with her. Amun was next you, but he was healing them and holding open the portal. You could see how much this use of magic was draining him. Save the child? The child is small, even for a child, some weird smaller goblin, no one knows what it was, but you all get paid to save it. The only problem is it's still almost the size of you. You throw it on your back drop to all fours and run as fast as your scaly legs can carry you. The portal is smaller than any of your allies already. It's now or never. As you run you here Amun say "Be Safe." The portal closed as soon as you went through. You are not talkative, you are not a caregiver, and now you have a child of an unknown species to take care of. Also, where are you? Okay, it looks you are on your world. Do you know this place? If only you were better at directions. In the distance you see a town, Stoneridge. It's where you met your friends. It's where you took this stupid job. All you want is to get strong enough to kill the dragon who leads your Kobold tribe. But these were the only people who have tolerated you. On the road you see a supply wagon coming from town. You block their path. They ask you to move. You motion for them to turn around. When it appeared that they were going to go around you started generating electricity. Then you had a ride back to town. After getting off the wagon you head toward town. The guards look at peculiar creature strapped to your back. It's the most attention they've paid to you since you joined your friends. Then you hear the people from the wagon talking to the guards. You scurry into town and back to the Guildhall. They seemed surprised to see you, and ask where the rest of the party is. They then ask you to hand over the child. You stand to your proud three foot height in a posture that says no. One member comes towards you. They get jolted with electricity for their trouble. They are upset at you. You just want help getting your friends back then they can have the kid. You jolt two more as they move to attack you. You won't be able to dodge the third. You are outside. How? Why? You don't know. But the door to the Guildhall is in front of you. You hear voices above you and you see a portal, into the Guildhall. It's coming from your back. The baby. It has powerful magic, maybe it can get you back to your friends. Then you see a small partol of guards, one from the entrance to the town is with them. They have spotted you. You hate walking, you hate running, it's why you normally traveled in Henshaw's bag. You especially hate running with an unknown magic child on you back. Running through the crowd, trying not to get trampled. You know all the buildings but not where to go. The downside to not walking anywhere yourself. There's less of a crowd this way so you run that way, it's unfamiliar. Then you realize you are headed towards the manor. Guards in front of the manor, guards chasing behind you. You create a wall of electricity on top the guards in front of you. They all fo down. You open the manor door and quickly shut it and lock it behind you. Done. There are two guards looking at you puzzled. They have guards inside too? The one guard tells you to hold, while the other opens the door, the two groups of guards, and the members of the guild are outside. You take the child off your back. They are circling you, telling you to put the child down. It's so hard to talk common. "Back! Friends!" You say to the child. Hands are going for you and more hands are reaching for the child. This time you see the floor beneath you open up. So do the guards and guild members. It opens beneath everyone. Your back. Where your friends were. Creatures around you are startled. But then they start attacking the guards. The guild and the guards fight back. You run, looking for your friends. Only Henshaw remains standing, he's guarding your wounded friends. You jolt your way to him. You hold up the child, "Take! Back!" you growl. The six of you are back outside town. You go into everyone's bag, take out a potion and give it to them. It seems with them being hurt, and all the fighting, no one saw all the people you brought with you. They are asking a lot of questions. Maybe you should have left them. Lyanna starts to head to Stoneridge. "No! They no pay, we keep." you growl as you pat the child.
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	"Wakey wakey!" A sing-song greeting poked the first hole in the haze filling the man's head. The armchair beneath him felt strangely hard and unfortable, and his limbs didn't seem to want to move. The grogginess and discomfort after a night of drinking, he was used to. The voice rousing him, not so much. The hard slap across the face, even less so. "I said: Wake. Up." That same voice, a growl instead of a song this time. A single bleary eye opened, peering about the room, trying to find the source of the voice. Realization dawned, and adrenaline cleared away any last dregs of the waking haze. This was not his home. This was not his armchair. His hands were bound to his sides, and his body was bound to the wooden chair beneath him. The room was dingy, poorly lit, and poorly constructed. A smell of mildew and sawdust filled his nose. He struggled against his bindings, but they held fast, and him with them. "Welcome back to the land of the living. For now, at least." His eyes snapped to the voice's owner. Across from him, straddling another plain wooden chair, was someone strangely familiar. His drinking companion from the previous night. He thought he'd recognized him from somewhere, but the mead was flowing that night, and that recognition slipped away from him at the time. Now, in the cold light of... was it day? He wasn't sure, but the light filtering in between the cracks in the wall suggested it. He brushed the thought from his mind, and focused again on the man in front of him. "You?!" "So, you DO know who I am! I was worried that my reputation wasn't as far reaching as I'd thought! Well, this saves time on introductions. I know who you are, Constable, and you know who I am, which means you probably figured out why we're both here, right?" The man grinned, the smile creasing his red skin, his gold-colored eyes seeming to bore right into his captive. The bound man was silent, and just glared at his captor. "I'll take that as a yes." "I ain't sayin' shit." "Fantastic. You start talking shit, we're going to have a bigger problem than we already do. You know why we're here, so let's skip straight to the main event. Where are they?" "Dunno what you're talking about, Nox." Nox closed his eyes for a moment and inhaled as a frustrated parent does before explaining something to a particularly slow child. "Okay, so, we're doing it this way, then? Good. I was hoping we would." It was a this point that the Constable noticed the particularly nasty-looking knife dangling from Nox's fingers, and the bucket of rock salt next to him. For a split second, an expression of worry crossed his face, before he remembered who he was dealing with. &#x200B; "Please, you're a hero. Helped save a town, hanging out with a paladin and everything. I know your type. You act all brooding and dangerous, but you ain't gonna do shit to me. Just let me go now, and maybe I'll consider not running you out of town. Again." The Constable scoffed. Valyar Nox had been a trouble-maker in the past, but since he'd been run out of town, he'd fallen in with a group of self-styled heroes. Together, they'd managed to defeat a plague of undead, save a town, defeat an evil necromancer, got a commendation from the Navy, the whole nine yards. Especially rare considering Nox was a Tiefling, a fiend-spawn. &#x200B; "You seem to have some real weird ideas about me, so, let me explain a few things. Yeah, I hang with heroes. They're my allies. I like having allies. If that means having to keep my nose clean, so be it. And it turns out, doing the right thing also pays pretty well. Now, though, those allies have gone missing. Someone, I'm guessing with connections to you and your bosses, had something to do with it. See, you're not smart enough to do this on your own, but I've a feeling you can point me in the right direction," Nox lightly tapped the point of the knife into the man's chest as he spoke. "So, here's what's going to happen. When we're done here, I am going to kill you. Nothing you say or do can change that fact," Nox said, in the most matter-of-fact tone possible. "But here's the good news: You get to influence what happens until that point! See, I'm going to ask you some questions. And you're going to answer me quickly, and you're going to answer me honestly. You do that and I'm happy with your answers? I give you a swig of whiskey, and stab you right in the heart. You die quick, you die painless." Nox's voice was disturbingly cheerful as he explained all of his, his face stretching into a grin once more. The cheer drained from his face , and his voice dropped into a growl as he continued. "But if you decide to mouth off? You lie to me? Hell, if I think you're taking too long to answer, well... You'd be surprised how much skin you can lose and not go in to shock." He pressed the blade flat against the Constable's cheek, pressing gently as he dragged it across the skin, until it just began to catch at the flesh. That slight twinge of pain, and the Constable's former bravado began to waver. His eyes flicked to Nox's face. The Tiefling was still grinning, his solid yellow eyes still boring into him. Sometimes a grin is show of happiness. This one was the grin of a predator that had been caged for far too long. &#x200B; "But... you can't do this! You're supposed to be a hero! You helped save all those people!" Panic began creeping in to the Constable's voice. This had to be some sort of hoax? Just a game of psychological chicken? He couldn't possible be serious? "Only half right. I did help save all those people, yes, because my allies were helping. But I did it because I like my allies, not because I like any of you people. And now, someone has stolen those allies- no, stolen my allies from me. See, when you say a hero can't do this..." Nox leaned in much closer now, the knife's edge beginning to draw blood. His grinning mouth was just inches from his captive's ear. "You're right."	I was a mere child when I sold my soul to the devil and for 100 happy years I lived in death and blood. I came to be known as the reaper. Wherever my Dark Lord sent me I would leave it in blood and ruins. I loved my life, loved the feel of a beating heart in my hands, the screams of my enemies as I walked in, the smell of death in the air was like an aphrodisiac to me. Then I met them. The holy 4, me and women of the clothe. They heard of me but knew not my face. At the time I was pretending to be a poor beggar girl to lure a mark, the offered me food, shelter and kindness with no regard for their own safety. From there on, reaper was no more and Grace was born. We traveled together helping the poor, building schools and healing the sick. I kept them protected even from themselves and they treated me like their own daughter. I have never known love like this Now you may be wondering why I'm tell you all this . Well it would seem that some of your men took my new family, for what reason I don't know and to be frank I don't really care. I am going to Bath in the blood of your children and feast on your wife's heart by the time I'm finished. Now return to me what is mine and we can talk. The man infront of me begged, promised me he knew nothing of my family. He was only hired to take them. He gave me the names of all his colleagues and the man who hired him. I then took his children's heads and ripped out his wife's heart while he watched. I left him screaming. After all the reaper has souls to reap and angels to save
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	After my parents died early on in my life, I wasn't the same cheerful person I always was. I started taking dangerous missions and fighting monsters I could barely beat on my own. I was aimless, without a purpose, trying to fill an endless void with mere adrenaline. It didn't work. But I was lucky, because it was at my lowest point where I found them. The void in my soul was filled, even overflowing! Five unique people, friendly, adventurous, exciting... loving. I had- correction, they had found me, and we became a tight knit family. And one day they were gone. Like they vanished out of the face of the earth, without a notice, without a word. I panicked, wondered if they left me... But I knew them, I trusted myself in what I knew about them, and I knew they wouldn't had just gone and left, without a word, without a sound. I was always my best self when around them, didn't even need to try, they were just that important to me that I wouldn't even think of anything hurtful. But they weren't here now. They were gone, something was up and they couldn't see what I was going to do to get them back. First I broke into the office of the city's leader, killed a few of his guards and interrogated him. If he knew nothing about my friends, sorry, goodbye, you never saw me. But he knew, he lied to me because he knew the people I was talking about. For each lie I cut a finger... and he lied a lot. It was too bad I had gotten used to being lied to, lying and in consequence knowing when someone was lying. After losing three of his fingers he knew I wasn't easily fooled. Then he tried to misdirect me, which also didn't work. When he finally decided it wasn't worth the pain, he let out most of what he knew. He claimed it was all, but I knew it wasn't. It didn't matter though, so I didn't comment. The five had actually gotten into a large debt before meeting me. It wasn't a simple debt either, not with how much the governor tried to cover it up. Adventuring is an expensive habit for beginners. The only reason I was able to begin a solo path in it was from my parents money in the first place. My family on the other hand had no choice but to borrow a large amount of money, for equipment, consumables, magic scrolls, etc. Their large need of money was also what led them to be more... reckless, than others. Well, it wasn't a difference from my previous activities, if anything it was safer, but it was also our first common ground. Shaking my head, I focused on the task at hand. Before they got sold off or killed for their bodies I had to get them back. Where and what would I do to get them? Well, for starters the city had to go, too hard with it in place. Thus my starting point was in an alchemist's alcove... well, former alchemist's alcove, now it was mine. Poison this, poison that... that's just stupid, just fuck up with the water and you're done. Due to not knowing if my friends would also be affected by the poison, I chose something non-lethal. Well, if everyone is on the toilet it's hard to defend against a monster rampage, isn't it? My thoughts exactly! Located near the outskirts of the city, the stronghold which was most likely holding my friends was hit first and was hit hard. Of course, I had to do a lot of work to lure a few hundred monsters to a specific part of the city, but I had dealt with worse. The gates were broken down in mere minuted without anyone to hold position and the stronghold was much the same. I continued inside what should have been my grave if I went on my own, trying to find my friends. It was hard to believe this was city sanctioned, but alas, the city needs that one more extra income source! Well, it wasn't about to continue being a source for much longer, but it still made me annoyed. Weakened people tried to fight off monsters that were in general stronger than a average adventurer. It didn't work. The city wasn't that badly affected, not many innocent individuals died, while also not many guards died. The exception was my point of focus, which barely had a door standing at the end of my stroll. The prisoners were protected in the metal cages, all weakened by my poison, but a few certain five wouldn't be for much longer. Of course, they made me share my remaining antidote with a few of the other people they made me free. This whole situation made me feel weird about myself. Would they assume I had just gone up and saved them, or would they ask? And if they asked, would I say the truth? As I stared at the beaten and rugged figures of my friends, I thought I really shouldn't had left everyone off that easily. At least I had killed off the city's leader whom seemed to be guy behind all of this. Thankfully no one was dead, I dreaded to even think of what I would had done to this poor city if that had happened... Well, to be honest, it isn't something hard to imagine. That alchemist wasn't a friendly person, I wasn't a friendly person, and when you combine the willingness of a madman with the seriousness of a scared alchemist you get really bad results.	I was a mere child when I sold my soul to the devil and for 100 happy years I lived in death and blood. I came to be known as the reaper. Wherever my Dark Lord sent me I would leave it in blood and ruins. I loved my life, loved the feel of a beating heart in my hands, the screams of my enemies as I walked in, the smell of death in the air was like an aphrodisiac to me. Then I met them. The holy 4, me and women of the clothe. They heard of me but knew not my face. At the time I was pretending to be a poor beggar girl to lure a mark, the offered me food, shelter and kindness with no regard for their own safety. From there on, reaper was no more and Grace was born. We traveled together helping the poor, building schools and healing the sick. I kept them protected even from themselves and they treated me like their own daughter. I have never known love like this Now you may be wondering why I'm tell you all this . Well it would seem that some of your men took my new family, for what reason I don't know and to be frank I don't really care. I am going to Bath in the blood of your children and feast on your wife's heart by the time I'm finished. Now return to me what is mine and we can talk. The man infront of me begged, promised me he knew nothing of my family. He was only hired to take them. He gave me the names of all his colleagues and the man who hired him. I then took his children's heads and ripped out his wife's heart while he watched. I left him screaming. After all the reaper has souls to reap and angels to save
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	Black hardened leather, oiled to easy silence, gave a softer creak than the roofbeam the black-furred Suthay-Raht trod along its length. Below, in the Great Hall of High Rock, the 'good' Lord Malthon and his cronies feasted. Kasim-dar knew that Malthon was secretly a Wormking agent. He knew that he had been called on by his old Listener to handle one last Black Sacrament, called out by name by the petitioner. In doing reconnaissance, he had learned of their necromantic leanings. He had also learned they were the one responsible for the disappearance of his friends. Good people. A pair of Dunmeri twins, Aile and Werth, one a follower of Lady Azura, the other a staunch worshiper of the Triumvirate, which had led to very interesting conversations. An Orc from the Fighter's Guild, Gro-bar, originally from the strongholds. An Argonian who had studied under the Telvanni, Haj-In. And lastly, but not least, his erstwhile partner in crime, Rajina-la, ever graceful, the supple agility to his own sinuous frame. She was his first theft, actually, stolen from a Breton plantation during one of his last assignments from the Dark Brotherhood. It had been two weeks since they had all vanished. It had been a mere six since they had all begun working to destroy a cult of necromancers in the town, who had been terrorizing the villages. It had been Haj-In who had performed the Sacrament... on himself. With his dying breaths he had told the Listener just eight words. "Lord Malthon. Worm. Give this only to Kasim-dar." Now, however, it was time to go to work. How Haj-In had known, the Khajiit didn't know. But this was work he had tried to put behind him when they had banded together, five years ago. He'd hidden his skills from them, because he desperately wanted, needed, to leave that life behind him. Time to go to work. Fingers traced a ward against necromantic energy, powered by one of a number of scrolls on his person. Those same fingers then twisted into a mystic position of attack while he leveled the crossbow and fired, spell and bolt both cutting down their targets. Before anyone could do more than stare agape at the dying men, the assassin dropped from the rafters, throwing daggers with long-practiced flicks of wrist and finger. None of their marks breathed once more. And then, as he drew his trademark daggers, one forged of enchanted glass, the other enchanted ebony, he brutally drove both footpaws into Malthon's gut, knocking his entire wooden throne over. Death-magic clawed at him from their protective wards, but failed to grip his essence thanks to his own spell. And now, at last, he was face to face with his friends' abductor. "Lord Malthon! This one wants you to understand the depth of your troubles, so he will do something rarely heard of." He knelt down, muzzle to face with the Breton. "You will tell me what I want to know, or I will rip you to pieces and feed you to Sithis myself. Where are my friends?"	I was a mere child when I sold my soul to the devil and for 100 happy years I lived in death and blood. I came to be known as the reaper. Wherever my Dark Lord sent me I would leave it in blood and ruins. I loved my life, loved the feel of a beating heart in my hands, the screams of my enemies as I walked in, the smell of death in the air was like an aphrodisiac to me. Then I met them. The holy 4, me and women of the clothe. They heard of me but knew not my face. At the time I was pretending to be a poor beggar girl to lure a mark, the offered me food, shelter and kindness with no regard for their own safety. From there on, reaper was no more and Grace was born. We traveled together helping the poor, building schools and healing the sick. I kept them protected even from themselves and they treated me like their own daughter. I have never known love like this Now you may be wondering why I'm tell you all this . Well it would seem that some of your men took my new family, for what reason I don't know and to be frank I don't really care. I am going to Bath in the blood of your children and feast on your wife's heart by the time I'm finished. Now return to me what is mine and we can talk. The man infront of me begged, promised me he knew nothing of my family. He was only hired to take them. He gave me the names of all his colleagues and the man who hired him. I then took his children's heads and ripped out his wife's heart while he watched. I left him screaming. After all the reaper has souls to reap and angels to save
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	"Steel City Stalwarts, unite!" Comet Lad flew in and landed on Sergeant Static's right side. Nightshade Assassin swung down on one of her vines. Silver Cypher's armor hissed and clicked as the cooling systems compensated for the afterburners he'd used to get here. The Gray Gorrilla took the rear, his massive body throwing a shade over all of them. The team all looked ready to take on the entire force of Eric Nasty's henchman, collectively and individually. Except for one. Coming standing behind one of the Gorrilla's legs was Tigerlily, her uniform barely dusty from the fighting. She looked, as she always did, just a little like she was about to run. The Sergeant didn't seem to notice her fear. His eyes were on the tactical situation as his mind ran through strategies at lightning speed. He said, "There's no way we can find the Mayor in time as a group. We need to split up. Gray G, you clear this floor and start working up. Nightshade, you and me work our way down to the parking garage. Comet, start on the roof and meet Gray G in the middle. Cypher, hack into their cameras and find the mayor and find that bomb!" As their leader lifted Static Staff to give the call to action, Tigerlily said, "What do you need me to do boss?" Sergeant turned around and said, "Just stay here. Hold up in the courtroom over there. We'll bring the wounded to you. Heal them, then get them out. Can you handle that." The tiny lass said, "Yes sir! I won't let you down!" Sergeant Static reached out and ruffled her hair affectionately. "That's my girl. Everyone, to the rescue!" They all shouted in unison, "To the rescue!" They flew away. The Sergeant looked over his shoulder and made sure that Tigerlily made it to the courtroom where she'd wait. When they got to the door to the stairs, Nightshade Princess said, "You have to stop treating her like a kid. She's one of us. She's a superhero." Sergeant said, "She's a kid who can heal people. I'm tired of sending kids into battle, Shade." The princess of poisonous plants rolled her eyes, which contrasted with the proud smile. In the courtroom, though, Tigerlily was not smiling. Eric Nasty and fifteen of his Nastymen were standing, their weapons drawn. Eric stood over the bomb, his hands on the panel to enter the password, the last step to arming it. When he saw the white-clad healer, he drew his pistol and pointed at her. "Look what we got here! The mascot!" Tigerlily said, "You'll never defeat the Stalwarts! Just give up!" Eric stood, laughing. "Will I? And how will they defeat me, brat, without their powers?" She shook her head. "What?" Eric pointed to the bomb. "You super dummy's are all the same. I don't just mean that sickening sense of self righteousness. I mean that I figured it out. Every superhero, every one I could get a DNA sample for, you all derive your power from the same source. Would you like to know what it is? Get ready... it's aliens." The girl balled up her fists, "You're crazy." "No, I'm brilliant. I may not fly or shoot lightning or juggle sedans, but I have a power. I've got a mind sharp enough to split atoms. I also have money and I paid a lot for the remains of a very special ship recently brought up from the ocean. Atlantis was real! Aliens are real! The great pulse that turned people into superfreaks came from their technology. In a few minutes, I'm going to demosntrate all that, and unless you're wearing a countermeasure charm, like I am, say goodbye to your abilities and hello to the reign of Nasty!" Eric cackled. His men laughed and raised their blasters. And then one exploded. The room went dead. Tigerlily wasn't by the door anymore. She was standing within arms reach of where the ex-Nastyman had stood, his body now a spray of red chunks and foul smells. Eric said, "What the...?" Tigerlilly's body moved so fast that all you could see was a white blur. Her hands fell on two more. They detonated, the same way that their teammate had. She said, "No." Eric screamed, "Fire!" Tigerlily jumped as numerous bolts of light scorched the floor. She landed on the shoulders of another Nastyman. She twisted his head in a circle. Before he could fall, she leapt to another; his comrades cut him down trying to shoot her, along with the two on either side of him. Eric stopped firing. He dove for the bomb. Tigerlilly did a backflip and landed on ballet point on the top of another henchman's head. He splattered downward, his splattering like it had been dropped from the 50th floor. Tigerlilly's eyes were glass marbles, her mouth a small and straight line. She glided from soldier to soldier, each one either being ended with a quick and efficent blow or turned to vapor. Eric tapped out the password, but nerves and shaking fingers got him a "DENIED" on the screen. He tried it again. Same result. He tried to ignore the screams of his personal guard as they died all around him. "C'mon, c'mon... oh, crap that's the wrong password." He started to type in the right one, but he found he did not have a hand. He stared at the stump, weaping blood, and screamed. He looked up and saw tigerlilly, holding his hand like it was attached to an invisible crossing guard. "You don't get to speak about Atlantis," she said. "They were kind people, before the earthquake. They showed my people the first kindness we'd seen in a thousand worlds. That is, except for one. He was like you." Tigerlilly dropped the hand. Behind her, Eric could see a few corpses, but mostly he saw human sized stains. Somehow, the girl's clothes were still pristine. "He built weapons. We shared our tech at first. But then we saw what your kind might do with with it. We saw the darkness in your hearts, only too late. It sank the greatest city in your short history into the ocean. Your kind and my kind were both lost, save for a very few. We made a promise that day, one you're trying to undo." "Get away from me!" Eric shouted, trying to tie his belt around his arm stump. "For ten thousand years, I've given powers to your people. Manipulating your flesh is so easy. Eric stammered, "You... you what? But I-" "So many use them well. A few, not so much. Either way, it keeps you fighting amongst yourselves. The few of great power in an internal struggle while the rest of the world is content to wait and see what you do. "I will not see you reveal us. I will not see you try to undo ten millenia of guidance and nurturing. You, Eric, are the worst of your kind. While I will do anything it takes to see that your infant race not only remaisn thinking you're the greatest, fiercest, most dangerous creatures in the universe, but that you never advance so far that find out what really holds that title. Lucky for you that it was us, their little cousins that found you. "Now die." The doors burst open. The Sergeant and Nightshade were first. Silver Cypher flew in and said, "I knew it! This room was the only one with the cameras blocked out it had to be here!" The Sargeant yelled, "Where's Tigerlily?" A small voice said, "Here." They all turned and found her hugging her knees on the floor. Nightshade dashed, wrapping her leafy arms around the girl like a mother. "Oh T.L., did they hurt you?" The girl shook her head. "I found them like this. I think the bomb backfired." Sargeant Static said, "We should have found it faster." Cypher said, "It's okay. We all missed it." The Sargeant looked around the room. "Doesn't matter now. Let's get Tigerlilly and ourselves the hell out of here." Nightshade covered the girl's ears. "Language!" Tigerlilly giggled. "It's okay, Shade. I'm a big girl. I can take it."	I was a mere child when I sold my soul to the devil and for 100 happy years I lived in death and blood. I came to be known as the reaper. Wherever my Dark Lord sent me I would leave it in blood and ruins. I loved my life, loved the feel of a beating heart in my hands, the screams of my enemies as I walked in, the smell of death in the air was like an aphrodisiac to me. Then I met them. The holy 4, me and women of the clothe. They heard of me but knew not my face. At the time I was pretending to be a poor beggar girl to lure a mark, the offered me food, shelter and kindness with no regard for their own safety. From there on, reaper was no more and Grace was born. We traveled together helping the poor, building schools and healing the sick. I kept them protected even from themselves and they treated me like their own daughter. I have never known love like this Now you may be wondering why I'm tell you all this . Well it would seem that some of your men took my new family, for what reason I don't know and to be frank I don't really care. I am going to Bath in the blood of your children and feast on your wife's heart by the time I'm finished. Now return to me what is mine and we can talk. The man infront of me begged, promised me he knew nothing of my family. He was only hired to take them. He gave me the names of all his colleagues and the man who hired him. I then took his children's heads and ripped out his wife's heart while he watched. I left him screaming. After all the reaper has souls to reap and angels to save
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	The whispers are always there. They’re in everyone. It’s that pull, that voice that sounds like a friend or distant parent. Softly, gently, but oh so forcefully encouraging you to embrace it. Few accept. Fewer still are able to rid themselves of the voice. More than a few listen, but simply shake their heads and go on. For some the voice, the pull, the temptation is stronger than others. For me, it was particularly strong. Combine being a chosen Paladin or Torag along with my strong desire for approval and I definitely heard the voices. Usually it was at bay, but that was because I had surrounded myself with good. I obeyed the laws of Torag. I had allies that I travelled with and we did good. We would slay monsters, help villagers, find lost souls. It was good, decent work. But the call was always there. Sure, I could kill a kobold without remorse. But how about throwing in a little fun? Why just sneak attack kill him when I could break its legs first with my warhammer, so it can’t run? Then crush its arms when it tries to fight me. Break its ribs, maybe collapse a lung so it can’t scream; only give those wonderful sounds of gurgling as it drowns on its blood, gasping as the pressure builds within its chest? Those were the whispers I heard. Torag knew they were tempting. What would my compatriots think of me if they caught me listening to those whispers? How would they react to see me torturing a helpless elf? What would they do to stop me from burning the flesh off a simple human townswoman? Would they be filled with revulsion at seeing blood caked on my chest plate, the symbol of Torag hardly visible beneath the brown crust? Running my hand through my stiff beard, I take a moment to stare into my eyes in the reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall. I can the whispers clearly right now. I turn away from my reflections because I don’t have time to watch or listen. My friends are missing; they’ve been gone for three days. I have to find them. Walking out of the cabin I had built away from the town, the smell of fresh air fills my nostrils and clears out the cloying scent of burning flesh. I wash my hands in the stream out front, feeling clots of drying blood washing away. I splash the water on my face, washing entrails from my beard. Though I don’t have time to listen to the whispers as I go in search of leads, I can still hear them. They’re saying they’re very proud of me and it makes me smile.	I was a mere child when I sold my soul to the devil and for 100 happy years I lived in death and blood. I came to be known as the reaper. Wherever my Dark Lord sent me I would leave it in blood and ruins. I loved my life, loved the feel of a beating heart in my hands, the screams of my enemies as I walked in, the smell of death in the air was like an aphrodisiac to me. Then I met them. The holy 4, me and women of the clothe. They heard of me but knew not my face. At the time I was pretending to be a poor beggar girl to lure a mark, the offered me food, shelter and kindness with no regard for their own safety. From there on, reaper was no more and Grace was born. We traveled together helping the poor, building schools and healing the sick. I kept them protected even from themselves and they treated me like their own daughter. I have never known love like this Now you may be wondering why I'm tell you all this . Well it would seem that some of your men took my new family, for what reason I don't know and to be frank I don't really care. I am going to Bath in the blood of your children and feast on your wife's heart by the time I'm finished. Now return to me what is mine and we can talk. The man infront of me begged, promised me he knew nothing of my family. He was only hired to take them. He gave me the names of all his colleagues and the man who hired him. I then took his children's heads and ripped out his wife's heart while he watched. I left him screaming. After all the reaper has souls to reap and angels to save
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	Drascar. Every black market, mafia, and crime syndicate on the continent can be traced back to this city, so much so that it's often called the City of Thieves. When the others went missing I knew I had to pay a visit to my old home town. Even just walking down the road through the outskirts of the town you can feel the eyes on you. Well, that may just be me. It's not every day that the famed Master of the Raging Flame, one of the world's greatest heroes, visits a city whose biggest export is crime. I'm sure by now the news of Heavenly Paladin Kranor and Beast Master Srakan going missing has reached this place, and I'm even more sure that the people behind it are in one of the mansions towards the centre of town. Or perhaps they're in a hidden compound bellow one. You can never tell with Drascar. Either way, I know that I can't just barge in alone. I have a reputation to uphold, and when I get the others back I don't want them hearing about how their dear friend burned down a city and murdered the inhabitants in a raging inferno, no matter how crime ridden it is. Something tells me Kranor would scold me about "cold blooded murder" and "we thought we were past this." Srakan would just stare, silently disapproving. I can't take that, their disappointment, so I'm going to do this right. I'll start with the children, the orphans and urchins. I know from experience that they hear much more than people think, and are willing to part with that information for a few copper coins. Throw in a good meal for them and their friends and they'll die for you. Having arrived at a small orphanage, I politely knock on the door. Kranor said it got better results than just blowing it up with a fireball, and it seems he was right, as instead of running away screaming a young woman stuck her head out. "What? We haven't missed any payments." Unusually articulate for a resident of this rotten semblance of a town. "No, ma'am, I'm sorry to bother you. I'm looking for some information, and was hoping that your charges had heard something that may help me." She looked at me warily, undoubtedly suspecting a trap or scam of some kind. "I don't think-" The sight of silver quickly changed her mind, and she opens the door quickly. I pressed the coin into her hands while brushing past her further into the orphanage. Kranor said charity was good, perhaps his god would smile upon me and give me a hint. Or maybe he'd fuck me over again, I don't put much faith in the gods. The orphans, of course, didn't want to talk to me. They were scared, I could tell because they even turned downy copper. They'd seen something, otherwise they'd have taken the coin and spent a few days on the street laying low so I didn't come after them having learned of their lies. Someone powerful had commited this crime, and they were too afraid to speak out against them, even in private. Of course, when I summoned a flame into my hand and threatened to burn them all their tongues loosened considerably. I left a few coins with them on my way out, enough to feed them for a month, so Kranor wouldn't be too angry if he found out. The mansion I got directions to from the orphans was the largest in the city. Of course it was, who other than the Lord of Drascar had the resources to kidnap two of the three members of Zeriol's Chosen? I didn't bother knocking this time. The smoldering ruins of the large double doors were blown into the entrance hall, and the guards standing before them were reduced to ash by my fury. The flames licked around me as I stormed into the mansion. Bodies fell like a fiery rain as the guards further into the house rushed towards me, and I will admit that I lost track of myself for a while, nothing but the endless roaring flame whipping around me. The gibbering Lord directed me towards the basement before being reduced to ash, and there I found myself, my flames extinguished by a sight I had never expected. Kranor, stripped of his armour, covered in wounds weeping blood. Srakan, curled up beside the remains of his great black wolf, a dagger through his chest. Neither drew breath. Kranor... Srakan... I need you! What do I do! What do I do?! I need you to guide me, I can't... I... What do I... No. I don't... They won't know any more. They can't guide me any longer, I won't feel their disapproving stares ever again... This... This is my choice. Here, now, I choose what direction my life takes. I can't follow them any further, so now I must step up and make my own choice. I could feel the flames respond to my will, wrapping around me, supporting me. In the end, only the flames will never leave me. I strode out of the sea of ashes once known as Drascar, City of Thieves. So many more must pay, so many more caused this pain, and the flames still hunger. The merchants who sold armor that could not protect Kranor, the woods whose beasts did not defend Srakan, the King who gave us this mission, the inn that did not hold them when I awoke. All of you... All of you will feed the flames of my wrath, and you shall burn until not even ashes proclaim that you once were.	I was a mere child when I sold my soul to the devil and for 100 happy years I lived in death and blood. I came to be known as the reaper. Wherever my Dark Lord sent me I would leave it in blood and ruins. I loved my life, loved the feel of a beating heart in my hands, the screams of my enemies as I walked in, the smell of death in the air was like an aphrodisiac to me. Then I met them. The holy 4, me and women of the clothe. They heard of me but knew not my face. At the time I was pretending to be a poor beggar girl to lure a mark, the offered me food, shelter and kindness with no regard for their own safety. From there on, reaper was no more and Grace was born. We traveled together helping the poor, building schools and healing the sick. I kept them protected even from themselves and they treated me like their own daughter. I have never known love like this Now you may be wondering why I'm tell you all this . Well it would seem that some of your men took my new family, for what reason I don't know and to be frank I don't really care. I am going to Bath in the blood of your children and feast on your wife's heart by the time I'm finished. Now return to me what is mine and we can talk. The man infront of me begged, promised me he knew nothing of my family. He was only hired to take them. He gave me the names of all his colleagues and the man who hired him. I then took his children's heads and ripped out his wife's heart while he watched. I left him screaming. After all the reaper has souls to reap and angels to save
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	I am a necromancer. My party knows this. Skorndrick Gristle, the Lost, at your service. In fact, the way I've worked myself out, my spells and my fighting capabilities, I'm probably the strongest member of our party. Do any of them suspect this? No. As far as they're concerned, I'm a good person who just.... helps the dead ease into the afterlife. And if that means telling them the dead wish to help, then that's what I've done. They've even got a joke excuse for me and my enchanted shovel- it's for digging "trenches". One time I bullshitted some suspicious librarians that didn't want to loan me a necromancy book with "The dead know the truth. There is meaning behind their existence. We all die, it doesn't have to be a bad thing. They need help, and I'm here for them." Another time I told a guard I was resurrecting a dead man because he'd requested being allowed to help protect the town he'd so loved in life. That was a lie, as well. And my party believed me. Of course they did. Naturally they've had their suspicions, of course. They've even been suspicious of our Oathbreaker Paladin, but he's a paladin so he can't be that suspicious. And to help that, I've always been cautious around them. Always. I've never had a reason to make them question me, more or less. Doing bad things for the right reasons is still doing something with good intentions for the benefit of more than just yourself. I've always told myself they didn't need to see the side of me that was kicked out of the dwarven cities for my actions, that they didn't deserve to experience what those who knew me back at home did. Until now. Until that awful man took them and threatened them and hurt them and hid them away. I wasn't there with them when they need me to be. I was away, teasing bones out of the teeth of the dragon I had raised from the grave with the Oathbreaker. Each time Heskan, my dragon, consumes a living being, he becomes a little more alive, a little less skeletal, flesh and sinew regenerating into place from rotting tendrils of death magic I amplified with the Oathbreaker to bring back. We'd been recovering in the privacy of a forest grove outside of the city when it happened, and I didn't find out until the next day. I always sleep with Heskan- his ribcage has hammocks of burlap for our stuff, and it's free real estate, so why not? Some of our party jokes he's the "Bone Bus", and I'll be the first to admit that's what he's mostly for. But now that man- the general of this shit kingdom's tiny, half-assed army- has my friends. He's locked them up, lied and said they were invaders or demons or spies or whatever nonsense befit each of them in his mind. All so he could power trip over visitors. And I will not permit that. Heskan and I are outside of a three hundred year old graveyard that's housed every dead member of this city since its founding, all closely buried together to save space. That's quite a bit of fodder for me to abuse, and Heskan agrees. It won't take me long, most of the night maybe, but missing a night's worth of sleep in exchange for an undying army is well worth the cost to save my party. They're good people. And they deserve me.	I was a mere child when I sold my soul to the devil and for 100 happy years I lived in death and blood. I came to be known as the reaper. Wherever my Dark Lord sent me I would leave it in blood and ruins. I loved my life, loved the feel of a beating heart in my hands, the screams of my enemies as I walked in, the smell of death in the air was like an aphrodisiac to me. Then I met them. The holy 4, me and women of the clothe. They heard of me but knew not my face. At the time I was pretending to be a poor beggar girl to lure a mark, the offered me food, shelter and kindness with no regard for their own safety. From there on, reaper was no more and Grace was born. We traveled together helping the poor, building schools and healing the sick. I kept them protected even from themselves and they treated me like their own daughter. I have never known love like this Now you may be wondering why I'm tell you all this . Well it would seem that some of your men took my new family, for what reason I don't know and to be frank I don't really care. I am going to Bath in the blood of your children and feast on your wife's heart by the time I'm finished. Now return to me what is mine and we can talk. The man infront of me begged, promised me he knew nothing of my family. He was only hired to take them. He gave me the names of all his colleagues and the man who hired him. I then took his children's heads and ripped out his wife's heart while he watched. I left him screaming. After all the reaper has souls to reap and angels to save
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	My party-my friends-have been missing for almost a week. We were supposed to meet up near the church and...they never showed. Lucky for me the church's priest invited me in, and allowed me to stay for the night last night. The climate had gotten cold, and our locksmith rogue kept the money safe, so I had none for an inn. It was last night I got my first clue. As I prepared to sleep, someone broke open the church door. They sounded like thugs, and as they tried to loot the donations vault, they were talking about the ransom they plan to get from the king using the princess and her esteemed guards. The princess and her guards...my friends. After a lovely chat with those fellows, I grabbed a clean set of monk's clothing from the church wardrobe; I promise to return them when I'm done, but it wouldn't do me any good to go through the town wearing bloodied rags. Sure, it'll be highly questionable seeing me dressed as a monk, but it's better than the alternative. I just need to find their friend, who hides in the sewer near the Rusty Flask, because that's who his dead friends directed me to. My arm! H-h-how did you bend it that waAAAaaaAAAugh!!!... Th-Those horns! W-w-what the hell are you-gh-gh-ghugh.... Teeth don't look like that, get away from me! Sto-AAAAAAAaaaaaugh.... Having the abilities of a demon has its advantages, but it would be nice if I could tone down the...let's just say "additional" features a little bit. At least I can hide the wings. Too much blood on me and they think I'm a vampire, which is hilarious, since vampires don't actually exist anymore. At least my friends knew that. They enjoyed having a reformed demigod on their side. Well, they think I'm a demigod, anyway. I'm not about to go and correct the only beings to ever care about me. Especially Princess Valeria. I never imagined someone of royalty could be so kind and empathetic. It's ok, Dremyoluok, its not your fault you are the way you are. Be proud of yourself for choosing your own destiny. Not every fallen angel gets a chance at redemption. Paul, Tri-Krimea, Folthum and myself, we will support you every inch of the way. You can help us protect the kingdom! That was almost 2 years ago, that they found me in that cave. I'll never forget the kindness they showed me, and the help they've rendered. It took me a few months of rehabilitation, but from then I've sworn that I won't let anyone bring harm upon my friends as long as I'm with them. No matter what. Paul the Monster-Slayer, Paladin of Thoruld, God of Righteous Might; Tri-Krimea, the elven naturalist and druid; Folthum the Wise, wielder of deep and powerful magic. They were eternally loyal to the naturally graceful and beautiful Princess Valeria; She is considered a top student at the High College of Magical Arts, having learned almost every healing spell along with many spells of both evocation and enchantment. I told them several half truths about myself, true enough to pass a Zone of Truth test, but not enough for them to know the full history of what I've done. I had truly stopped committing evil deeds only about 200 years before then, and had bound myself to that cave for almost 50 years. Truth is, I was turned into that form almost 2000 years ago, and the demonic power went straight to my head. Make of that what you will. I don't know how the bandits managed to capture them, but I know where to look now. They have a hideout a few miles north, and it only took an hour to extract the info from the bandit in the sewer. And how did he manage to also have seven friends hidden with him? At least there was enough clean water running through to get the blood off the robes. I can ditch the robes back by the church on my way out of town, before the sun rises. I won't need the rags on my mission. I'll leave an apology for the priest, and a small donation from those who no longer need their money. My friends...I can pick up their scents now. I've found the encampment. I hope they can forgive me for what will happen to these bandits...I should be able to get through the 30 bandits patrolling the perimeter before the rest notice the missing patrols. Who would've guessed only a few miles north of town, there was a bandit camp the size of a small city? Almost as many bandits as 3 villages worth of people. I think I might be about to knock out two birds with one stone here...save my friends, and solve the kingdom's bandit problem for a while...	I was a mere child when I sold my soul to the devil and for 100 happy years I lived in death and blood. I came to be known as the reaper. Wherever my Dark Lord sent me I would leave it in blood and ruins. I loved my life, loved the feel of a beating heart in my hands, the screams of my enemies as I walked in, the smell of death in the air was like an aphrodisiac to me. Then I met them. The holy 4, me and women of the clothe. They heard of me but knew not my face. At the time I was pretending to be a poor beggar girl to lure a mark, the offered me food, shelter and kindness with no regard for their own safety. From there on, reaper was no more and Grace was born. We traveled together helping the poor, building schools and healing the sick. I kept them protected even from themselves and they treated me like their own daughter. I have never known love like this Now you may be wondering why I'm tell you all this . Well it would seem that some of your men took my new family, for what reason I don't know and to be frank I don't really care. I am going to Bath in the blood of your children and feast on your wife's heart by the time I'm finished. Now return to me what is mine and we can talk. The man infront of me begged, promised me he knew nothing of my family. He was only hired to take them. He gave me the names of all his colleagues and the man who hired him. I then took his children's heads and ripped out his wife's heart while he watched. I left him screaming. After all the reaper has souls to reap and angels to save
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	Help those in need. Protect the innocent. No one is beyond redemption. These are the rules I’ve lived by since joining up with The Good Guys, the name we gave ourselves when we set out to free the hamlets from the grips of a tyrant. My only friends. Eve was the one who brought me in to the group. A court jester turned vigilante, who kept her blade nearly as sharp as her tongue. She taught me that no one was beyond redemption. They would have been well within their rights to hang me for stealing the blade of morning from them. But with my back against a wall and sword at my throat she’s the one who plead my case. They needed a thief to steal it back, and I was the only one they knew. Marx disagreed. I’d spent a lifetime stealing and killing to get by. He believed, no he knew, those people deserved justice. He was right of course, I knew it then as well I know it now. It took months for him to trust me. Never letting me out of his sight less I hurt the innocents he swore to protect. I couldn’t believe my eyes as this man, who seemed more of a giant to me, was beaten down and captured by the mad kings men. Michael was the deciding vote. A warrior priest, who should have seen monster when he looked at me, but saw a broken man in need. He helped me more than he’ll ever know. He saved my life a dozen times over. I just hope I’m up to the task of returning the favor. Help those in need. Protect the innocent. No one is beyond redemption. These are the rules I’ve lived by since I met my friends. But they’ve all been taken, either prisoners or dead by King Matthew’s hand. And before I die I’ll see to it the mad king know why a good man doesn’t need rules.	I was a mere child when I sold my soul to the devil and for 100 happy years I lived in death and blood. I came to be known as the reaper. Wherever my Dark Lord sent me I would leave it in blood and ruins. I loved my life, loved the feel of a beating heart in my hands, the screams of my enemies as I walked in, the smell of death in the air was like an aphrodisiac to me. Then I met them. The holy 4, me and women of the clothe. They heard of me but knew not my face. At the time I was pretending to be a poor beggar girl to lure a mark, the offered me food, shelter and kindness with no regard for their own safety. From there on, reaper was no more and Grace was born. We traveled together helping the poor, building schools and healing the sick. I kept them protected even from themselves and they treated me like their own daughter. I have never known love like this Now you may be wondering why I'm tell you all this . Well it would seem that some of your men took my new family, for what reason I don't know and to be frank I don't really care. I am going to Bath in the blood of your children and feast on your wife's heart by the time I'm finished. Now return to me what is mine and we can talk. The man infront of me begged, promised me he knew nothing of my family. He was only hired to take them. He gave me the names of all his colleagues and the man who hired him. I then took his children's heads and ripped out his wife's heart while he watched. I left him screaming. After all the reaper has souls to reap and angels to save
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	As I walk down the grand marble hall two guards approach me, probably about to stop me and ask me for a permit but before they can do that I just pull out my sabers and slice them in half. They used to be silver with the plasma flowing off of their edges green like the flourishing grass of my homeland but now... now they burn with my emotions. The deeper into the hall I get the less light there is and the more of the guards rush in, still unaware of their first two losses. "Halt! The Atreuonum Sactinis is forbidden for all but the S'Alai!" He can't be any older than twenty, a new recruit into the order it would seem. As I grab the young man and place one of my sabers to his throath, even when not quite powered their edges are as sharp as any other sword's, I yell at all the other guards who finally take me as a proper threat and pull out their swords. "Listen here you bunch of sad idiots, I am here for one thing and one thing only!" "Let him go, now!" "It is impolite to interupt the guy with the gun..." I shoot the improper bastard. "Now, where was I? Oh yes, I am here for one simple, tinsy, winsy thing... You can't give it to me though... only your precious Qui'Alain." Now that's got a reaction out of them, angry faces and a few steps towards me. "Oh, and I should also tell you, THEY are here for you..." From the shadows of the temple my temporary alies come forth. Ravenous. Full of hatered. Thirsting for blood. "LEAVE NONE STANDING, BROTHERS AND SISTES!" Amanhand, the leader of the dark god followers enters the scene with his typical line and lets his savage followers into town. Now that my part of the bargain is half done... time for the fun part. As I shoot and slice my way through hordes of patheticaly weak guardians I start to grow a wicked old smile I missed for so long. Slaughtering such a weak foe feels good... And showing off to all those pathetic fighters does too. Nevertheless I make my way towards my objective. The Qui'Alain. Priesthood women sensitive to magicka and it's flow, meant to be oracles and Greybeard advisors. Never taught to fight. The Dark Guard got to the Qui'Alain quarters before me, luckily they are far too incompetent to break through the S'Alain defenses. It is a simple job really, throw a few smoke grenades in, a head or two of their fellow guards through those and rush in with full shields. Once I get to the first one it's all over, any injury they can cause me will be healed by one of their deaths and my rage shall fuel my might further until the last one remains. "I- I yield! I can tell you everyting about this place! He-here! The keys to the Qui'alak quarters!" He says as he crawls on the ground, wounded. I use my sword to break the lock of the quarters and look down on him. "I though your little order taught you to never give up..." "I- I will! Just please let me live I want to say hello to my mo-" Like I care about this fly's sob story. The Dark Guard rushes inside the main room wehre they gather all the Qui'Alain. When they bring the 'mother' and confirm that they found all of them the leader stands proudly before them. Has her lifted up by his lapdogs and smiles widely, letting his fangs shine. He raises his hand with a dagger and just as he is to stab her heart I use my powers to pull back at his hand from distance. "Wha- How dare you int-" "Remember our deal? You better or I'll make sure you won't be able to spout anymore bullshit." I take the mother by the throat and lift her off the floor. "I will ask you this ONCE. Where. Are. The Elisians?!" "You... you will never learn it, monster!" I shoot one of her Qui'Alain. "Forgot to mention that for each time I need to repeat myself I will shoot one of you." "I... I will ne-" The deep hissing noise and bang my pistol makes is trully a sweet tune to my ears. "For the third time. Where. Are. The Elisians?" "They... They are in the Harald Mountais..." "Expected you to last at least till round five! Good work, lady" I snap her neck. "Now you can do whatever you want with them, Count..." As I leave the temple I can hear screams and shots... When I inhale the sweet stench of death and singed flesh I stand atop the monastery stairs, clad in my old armor that still had that wolf fur around the neck and the rune carvings, I think out loud. "The Wolf... is back..."	I was a mere child when I sold my soul to the devil and for 100 happy years I lived in death and blood. I came to be known as the reaper. Wherever my Dark Lord sent me I would leave it in blood and ruins. I loved my life, loved the feel of a beating heart in my hands, the screams of my enemies as I walked in, the smell of death in the air was like an aphrodisiac to me. Then I met them. The holy 4, me and women of the clothe. They heard of me but knew not my face. At the time I was pretending to be a poor beggar girl to lure a mark, the offered me food, shelter and kindness with no regard for their own safety. From there on, reaper was no more and Grace was born. We traveled together helping the poor, building schools and healing the sick. I kept them protected even from themselves and they treated me like their own daughter. I have never known love like this Now you may be wondering why I'm tell you all this . Well it would seem that some of your men took my new family, for what reason I don't know and to be frank I don't really care. I am going to Bath in the blood of your children and feast on your wife's heart by the time I'm finished. Now return to me what is mine and we can talk. The man infront of me begged, promised me he knew nothing of my family. He was only hired to take them. He gave me the names of all his colleagues and the man who hired him. I then took his children's heads and ripped out his wife's heart while he watched. I left him screaming. After all the reaper has souls to reap and angels to save
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	She offered me water. In the middle of the Death Forge Desert, water was worth more than gold. Worth more than magic even, as most of us need it for even basic spellwork. It was as if she didn't care or mind that offering it to me could spell her own doom. She was right to, in any case. I am one of the best friends she could ever have. I accepted it, and when she explained that she and her friends were searching for the Patron God of War to stop the battling in the eastern valleys, I decided to tag along. The intention was to pay her back; I do not like being in someone's debt. But even after I had saved her life, and the lives of her friends multiple times, I didn't feel compelled to leave. How quaint, to risk your life for the sake of the better good. How optimistic. How pure. It should have been funny, but they were the best companions I had had in such a long time. There were stipulations to being with a group of paladins. No senseless murdering. No torturing. Nothing their patron god might disagree with. I followed of course. I let the raiders following us into the hills continue on. I did nothing more than wound when they began to attack, separating us from each other slowly until there were none but me and her. I asked her, if I could kill them all, and bring all of our friends back, would she want me to. And stubbornly, she still refused. I saw no other options, and in the middle of the night, when our fire was yet but tinders and all that was left was their broken weapons, and her abandoned sleepong roll, I was finally free to act. The war in the east was naught one that I could stop, even as a God in my own right. But this? This I could do. I would burn the world for them, and I could.	I was a mere child when I sold my soul to the devil and for 100 happy years I lived in death and blood. I came to be known as the reaper. Wherever my Dark Lord sent me I would leave it in blood and ruins. I loved my life, loved the feel of a beating heart in my hands, the screams of my enemies as I walked in, the smell of death in the air was like an aphrodisiac to me. Then I met them. The holy 4, me and women of the clothe. They heard of me but knew not my face. At the time I was pretending to be a poor beggar girl to lure a mark, the offered me food, shelter and kindness with no regard for their own safety. From there on, reaper was no more and Grace was born. We traveled together helping the poor, building schools and healing the sick. I kept them protected even from themselves and they treated me like their own daughter. I have never known love like this Now you may be wondering why I'm tell you all this . Well it would seem that some of your men took my new family, for what reason I don't know and to be frank I don't really care. I am going to Bath in the blood of your children and feast on your wife's heart by the time I'm finished. Now return to me what is mine and we can talk. The man infront of me begged, promised me he knew nothing of my family. He was only hired to take them. He gave me the names of all his colleagues and the man who hired him. I then took his children's heads and ripped out his wife's heart while he watched. I left him screaming. After all the reaper has souls to reap and angels to save
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	I killed the first guard as he was taking a piss. My footsteps were drowned out by laughter from the party in the room next door. He stank and swayed like he had been partaking in the revelry himself. I slit his throat with my boot knife and pillaged his belongings before slowly lowering his body into the latrine hole. All he had was a sack of coins and a silver pocket watch with “Love, Meredith” inscribed on the back. Coin spends well enough but I’ll have to sell the watch at a shop in the next village. Still, should fetch a decent price. The second guard was trickier. He was chatting up another party goer in a long hallway and she would certainly scream if she saw me kill him. Hallways like this always suck because any noise is magnified by the echo. Luckily the fucks who built this place loved their columns. I weave my way from one to the next, making sure to avoid any of the moonlight coming through the windows. The cold stones were uncomfortable with my bare feet, but my shoes were heavy and would have given me away in an instant. I angle myself behind a column only a dozen steps from where they’re standing and quietly pull the draw on my crossbow and load a bolt. I raise it up and fire, the bolt cutting through the short space between us in an instant. It strikes him were I want, at the base of his skull and to the left, passing cleanly through his jugular and out, then striking the woman in her eye before burying itself deep in her brain tissue. I sprint forward and catch both bodies and slowly lower them to the ground. Nowhere to hide these, so I drag them behind the shadow of a column. With how close I am to my goal; I should be in and out before anyone stumbles onto them The woman doesn’t have any money on her, though I shouldn’t be surprised. She dressed as a maid and doesn’t have much in the way of carrying capacity. The guard has a second sack of coins and the one thing I’ve been looking for; keys to the cellar. I step quietly through the doorway and into the next room that appears to be a second banquet hall. The table is long enough for 40 guests but none of the place settings are out. Good sign. Looks like the party, and therefore the crowd, will be kept to the other side of the castle. I go out through the door at the back of the room and find the staircase that leads down to the cellars. The steps are winding and the deeper I go the colder it gets. No time to lose focus. I exit the stairs into a narrow hallway lit gently on both sides by torches. At the center of the hallway is a small wooden door. I approach it and pull it open just enough to see inside. On the wall to the left is a guard asleep in his bed. One of the barracks then. I slip inside and shut the door gently behind me, then pull my boot knife out and get to work. The guard I saw first doesn’t even make a sound as I press the knife into the side of his throat, but I cover his mouth anyway, just in case. The bed next to him is unoccupied but on the other side of the room are two more guards, both sound asleep. I cut the second guard the same as the first but he manages to gurgle and cough. Blood sprays up and hits me in the face as the man dies. “Please” I snap my head forward and see the third guard sitting up in his bed, his hands trembling as they hold the blanket up on his chest. “Please” he says again, his voice breaking. “Please I don’t want to die. They conscripted me. Pl-please don’t kill me.” Tears begin rolling down his face. “Conscripted, huh?” I say. He nods his head, hands still trembling. I dry the blood off my knife on my sleeve and use a clean portion of the dead guard’s blanket to wipe the blood off my face. I must look like a demon. “Shitty job placement, then.” I spin the knife softly up into the air and catch it by the newly cleaned blade, then throw it at the trembling man in bed. The blade hits him squarely in the forehead. The energy jerks his head backwards as blood spurts out of the wound. He slumps back into bed, hands sprawled out to his sides. I exit the room quietly and move to the end of the hall. Using the guard key I stole, I open up the cellar door and enter the dimly lit room behind it. There I see them. All three are strung up from the ceiling and covered in their own dried blood. The guards must have been beating them for a few days. I softly approach them. I lay my hand on the first, but he’s cold to the touch. I sigh and move to the next. He’s at least warm, but his eyes are open and there’s no life left. Must have missed him by a hours. A day at the most. The third stirs slightly as I place my hand on him. “Shhhh.” I say. “It’s ok. I’ve got you.” I use my boot knife to cut his ropes and lower him softly to the ground. I pull a piece of bread out of my satchel and hand it to him. He’s slow to move, but he grips it with enough strength that answers my next question as I ask it. “Can you move?” “Yeah. Yeah I think I can.” “Good, then we’re moving.” He grunts in approval and we make our way back out of the cellar. I walk past the two bodies I left in the hallway and strip the coat and cloak off the dead guard and hand it to my partner. If the wounds slow him down, the cold would finish him off. We have a lot of ground to cover and once they realize what I’ve done, they’ll be after us. But hey, what are friends for.	I was a mere child when I sold my soul to the devil and for 100 happy years I lived in death and blood. I came to be known as the reaper. Wherever my Dark Lord sent me I would leave it in blood and ruins. I loved my life, loved the feel of a beating heart in my hands, the screams of my enemies as I walked in, the smell of death in the air was like an aphrodisiac to me. Then I met them. The holy 4, me and women of the clothe. They heard of me but knew not my face. At the time I was pretending to be a poor beggar girl to lure a mark, the offered me food, shelter and kindness with no regard for their own safety. From there on, reaper was no more and Grace was born. We traveled together helping the poor, building schools and healing the sick. I kept them protected even from themselves and they treated me like their own daughter. I have never known love like this Now you may be wondering why I'm tell you all this . Well it would seem that some of your men took my new family, for what reason I don't know and to be frank I don't really care. I am going to Bath in the blood of your children and feast on your wife's heart by the time I'm finished. Now return to me what is mine and we can talk. The man infront of me begged, promised me he knew nothing of my family. He was only hired to take them. He gave me the names of all his colleagues and the man who hired him. I then took his children's heads and ripped out his wife's heart while he watched. I left him screaming. After all the reaper has souls to reap and angels to save
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	A grin on Silas' face. Sickly green lightning, coursing through his veins, occasionally sparking out from the bare skin. The ground beneath his feet scorching, with leaves hovering the air from the static spread by him. One guard fell. And another. Pure, unbridled power, kept secret for so long. He never dared to unleash his full power. Until now. Because it was needed. They did this. Those creatures. Silas was once one of them. A Damûn. But he broke free from the shackles. At least, partially. A part of him was still the unthinking beast. Killing, murdering. Pure instinct to hunt, feed, consume, and grow. And at this moment, he let that part of him free. The sane part of him was worried he would be addicted to its power. Or that it would consume too much, so much he would be unable to return. But his friends... they were good people. They helped Silas when they found him in a ditch by the road. They saw he was wounded. They saw he was different than Man or Elf or Dwarf. But they still helped him. They were fools, maybe, if they did this to anyone else but Silas. But deep within, Silas knew they could see he was good too. Saw the potential to be good. Slowly but surely, Silas pushed through the fortress. Bodies and crumbling foundation in his wake. Until he arrived at the center room. "So... you return to me... Silassss" a voice echoed through the room. And a figure appeared on a balcony above. Crackling energy filled the room and made Silas' hair stand up straight. "Maugaros!" Silas yelled. He clenched his fists. This would be it. A last stand. either he would walk out of here with his friends, perhaps afraid of his power. Or he would die, and his friends too. But it would be a worthy death. Silas prayed to the one god his friends worshipped, and felt his power surging. He saw the color of his lightning change to blue, and he knew Thor answered with a blessing. He heard the voice in his head roar. "Save my Son, Silas."	I was a mere child when I sold my soul to the devil and for 100 happy years I lived in death and blood. I came to be known as the reaper. Wherever my Dark Lord sent me I would leave it in blood and ruins. I loved my life, loved the feel of a beating heart in my hands, the screams of my enemies as I walked in, the smell of death in the air was like an aphrodisiac to me. Then I met them. The holy 4, me and women of the clothe. They heard of me but knew not my face. At the time I was pretending to be a poor beggar girl to lure a mark, the offered me food, shelter and kindness with no regard for their own safety. From there on, reaper was no more and Grace was born. We traveled together helping the poor, building schools and healing the sick. I kept them protected even from themselves and they treated me like their own daughter. I have never known love like this Now you may be wondering why I'm tell you all this . Well it would seem that some of your men took my new family, for what reason I don't know and to be frank I don't really care. I am going to Bath in the blood of your children and feast on your wife's heart by the time I'm finished. Now return to me what is mine and we can talk. The man infront of me begged, promised me he knew nothing of my family. He was only hired to take them. He gave me the names of all his colleagues and the man who hired him. I then took his children's heads and ripped out his wife's heart while he watched. I left him screaming. After all the reaper has souls to reap and angels to save
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	"I good girl." Said the scruffy black cat. The orc jailer squinted down at the talking feline. He was a great green brute of an orc, and was the very last line of defense in the intricate cave system of the Western Mountain Orc Prison. The orc jailer usually delighted in having wild rats pass by his post at night, because then he could smash the rats with his club and throw their bloody bodies into the prisoner's cells and listen to the occupants scream. It was his only entertainment during the night shift. But he had never seen a cat while on duty in the caves. And he'd never even heard of a talking one before. He wondered if his brothers further up the line had let it pass to him on purpose. The cat stepped closer into the torch light and sniffed at the ground, then licked her lips. She looked like she'd been in a lot of fights in her life; her hair was missing in spots, her ears were chewed up and scarred, and she smelled like she had rolled over something dead. She was old and ugly and the orc's brothers had probably just ignored her when she'd gone by. The jailer began to slowly reach for his club, thinking of which cells he could throw her squished body into. The older prisoners were getting used to his dead rat game, but might squeal a little differently if a bigger, smellier cat was thrown at them. But those new prisoners... The ones still so full of hope and good faith... he could hardly wait to hear what kind of screams they might make. The cat watched with shining yellow eyes as the orc moved in slow motion, quietly picking up his enormous club. She could smell his intent to kill, but she stood still and poised. When the orc moved to swing his club at her, she heard the soft jingle of metal keys somewhere on his left leg. 'Keys good', thought the cat. Before the club could reach her, the old cat had morphed growing dagger sized teeth and a bear-sized head. She zipped past the orc's club and sunk her teeth into his exposed neck. The jailer couldn't even let out a scream as his windpipe was squished, like a rat against his club. The cat's body continued to morph and grow, matching the orc's weight pound for pound. She threw him to the ground and ripped off his head. His blood was hot and his meat was tainted and tough, but to the monster ripping through those muscles and bones, he tasted like sweet, sweet victory. Savagely, she tore into him, swallowing his still convulsing heart, chewing up his bones, and even licking up the blood that had sprayed across the cave walls and floor. In no time at all, she had devoured everything the orc had ever been. Except, for his untouched left leg. It had been ages since she had killed this much. Ever since she had been adopted and loved by her party in her small Sneaking form, she had held back her natural instinct to stalk, kill, and eat her enemies. She had sat back and allowed her party to complete small quests and capture minor criminals at their own pace, enjoying the love and attention that their good hearts had bestowed upon her along the way. She had even begun to believe all the little things they said to her when they scratched her scarred ears, petted her uneven fur, or fed her little fish they bought with their hard earned money. But then someone had taken them away, had sold them and imprisoned them in an orc's mountain. That person had been the first in line to go. The monster delicately picked up the orcs's leg and shook it until a ring of keys fell off. She chomped and swallowed up the last bit of orc, and then quietly made her way down the line of cells with the keys hanging from her bloody teeth. The scent of her party wafted through a barred window on a small wooden door. She stopped and dropped the keys at the base of the door and licked her muzzle. She began to shrink back into her Sneaking form and let out a curiously sweet 'mew'. There was movement behind the door, and the leader of her party came into view between the bars of the window. He was bruised and scratched up, but ecstatic to see the party's little cat. She 'mewed' happily as the leader roused the rest of the party and they began to devise a plan to reach the keys and open the cell door before the jailer could notice them. Smiling at her little party, the cat curled up in the hall to await their attempts at escape. They had all the time in the world, of course. No one was left to hurt them here. "I good girl." Purred the scruffy black cat.	I was a mere child when I sold my soul to the devil and for 100 happy years I lived in death and blood. I came to be known as the reaper. Wherever my Dark Lord sent me I would leave it in blood and ruins. I loved my life, loved the feel of a beating heart in my hands, the screams of my enemies as I walked in, the smell of death in the air was like an aphrodisiac to me. Then I met them. The holy 4, me and women of the clothe. They heard of me but knew not my face. At the time I was pretending to be a poor beggar girl to lure a mark, the offered me food, shelter and kindness with no regard for their own safety. From there on, reaper was no more and Grace was born. We traveled together helping the poor, building schools and healing the sick. I kept them protected even from themselves and they treated me like their own daughter. I have never known love like this Now you may be wondering why I'm tell you all this . Well it would seem that some of your men took my new family, for what reason I don't know and to be frank I don't really care. I am going to Bath in the blood of your children and feast on your wife's heart by the time I'm finished. Now return to me what is mine and we can talk. The man infront of me begged, promised me he knew nothing of my family. He was only hired to take them. He gave me the names of all his colleagues and the man who hired him. I then took his children's heads and ripped out his wife's heart while he watched. I left him screaming. After all the reaper has souls to reap and angels to save
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	"Wakey wakey!" A sing-song greeting poked the first hole in the haze filling the man's head. The armchair beneath him felt strangely hard and unfortable, and his limbs didn't seem to want to move. The grogginess and discomfort after a night of drinking, he was used to. The voice rousing him, not so much. The hard slap across the face, even less so. "I said: Wake. Up." That same voice, a growl instead of a song this time. A single bleary eye opened, peering about the room, trying to find the source of the voice. Realization dawned, and adrenaline cleared away any last dregs of the waking haze. This was not his home. This was not his armchair. His hands were bound to his sides, and his body was bound to the wooden chair beneath him. The room was dingy, poorly lit, and poorly constructed. A smell of mildew and sawdust filled his nose. He struggled against his bindings, but they held fast, and him with them. "Welcome back to the land of the living. For now, at least." His eyes snapped to the voice's owner. Across from him, straddling another plain wooden chair, was someone strangely familiar. His drinking companion from the previous night. He thought he'd recognized him from somewhere, but the mead was flowing that night, and that recognition slipped away from him at the time. Now, in the cold light of... was it day? He wasn't sure, but the light filtering in between the cracks in the wall suggested it. He brushed the thought from his mind, and focused again on the man in front of him. "You?!" "So, you DO know who I am! I was worried that my reputation wasn't as far reaching as I'd thought! Well, this saves time on introductions. I know who you are, Constable, and you know who I am, which means you probably figured out why we're both here, right?" The man grinned, the smile creasing his red skin, his gold-colored eyes seeming to bore right into his captive. The bound man was silent, and just glared at his captor. "I'll take that as a yes." "I ain't sayin' shit." "Fantastic. You start talking shit, we're going to have a bigger problem than we already do. You know why we're here, so let's skip straight to the main event. Where are they?" "Dunno what you're talking about, Nox." Nox closed his eyes for a moment and inhaled as a frustrated parent does before explaining something to a particularly slow child. "Okay, so, we're doing it this way, then? Good. I was hoping we would." It was a this point that the Constable noticed the particularly nasty-looking knife dangling from Nox's fingers, and the bucket of rock salt next to him. For a split second, an expression of worry crossed his face, before he remembered who he was dealing with. &#x200B; "Please, you're a hero. Helped save a town, hanging out with a paladin and everything. I know your type. You act all brooding and dangerous, but you ain't gonna do shit to me. Just let me go now, and maybe I'll consider not running you out of town. Again." The Constable scoffed. Valyar Nox had been a trouble-maker in the past, but since he'd been run out of town, he'd fallen in with a group of self-styled heroes. Together, they'd managed to defeat a plague of undead, save a town, defeat an evil necromancer, got a commendation from the Navy, the whole nine yards. Especially rare considering Nox was a Tiefling, a fiend-spawn. &#x200B; "You seem to have some real weird ideas about me, so, let me explain a few things. Yeah, I hang with heroes. They're my allies. I like having allies. If that means having to keep my nose clean, so be it. And it turns out, doing the right thing also pays pretty well. Now, though, those allies have gone missing. Someone, I'm guessing with connections to you and your bosses, had something to do with it. See, you're not smart enough to do this on your own, but I've a feeling you can point me in the right direction," Nox lightly tapped the point of the knife into the man's chest as he spoke. "So, here's what's going to happen. When we're done here, I am going to kill you. Nothing you say or do can change that fact," Nox said, in the most matter-of-fact tone possible. "But here's the good news: You get to influence what happens until that point! See, I'm going to ask you some questions. And you're going to answer me quickly, and you're going to answer me honestly. You do that and I'm happy with your answers? I give you a swig of whiskey, and stab you right in the heart. You die quick, you die painless." Nox's voice was disturbingly cheerful as he explained all of his, his face stretching into a grin once more. The cheer drained from his face , and his voice dropped into a growl as he continued. "But if you decide to mouth off? You lie to me? Hell, if I think you're taking too long to answer, well... You'd be surprised how much skin you can lose and not go in to shock." He pressed the blade flat against the Constable's cheek, pressing gently as he dragged it across the skin, until it just began to catch at the flesh. That slight twinge of pain, and the Constable's former bravado began to waver. His eyes flicked to Nox's face. The Tiefling was still grinning, his solid yellow eyes still boring into him. Sometimes a grin is show of happiness. This one was the grin of a predator that had been caged for far too long. &#x200B; "But... you can't do this! You're supposed to be a hero! You helped save all those people!" Panic began creeping in to the Constable's voice. This had to be some sort of hoax? Just a game of psychological chicken? He couldn't possible be serious? "Only half right. I did help save all those people, yes, because my allies were helping. But I did it because I like my allies, not because I like any of you people. And now, someone has stolen those allies- no, stolen my allies from me. See, when you say a hero can't do this..." Nox leaned in much closer now, the knife's edge beginning to draw blood. His grinning mouth was just inches from his captive's ear. "You're right."	John felt the pounding in his head before he had even opened his eyes. As the fog in his mind began to clear he discovered that he was unable to move. He sat upright, tightly bound to a chair in an abandoned bar. The only light in the room came from two filthy windows by the door and a lantern that hung from the ceiling. Movement caught his eye, he turned his head just in time to see a man step out from behind the bar. “Ahhhh, finally awake are we?” The man said. “Who are you?” “I’ll be the one asking the questions today and who I am will become abundantly clear soon enough.” The man walked over and stood directly in front of John. He was oddly calm with an almost amused expression and not very intimidating. John was certain if he were untied the man wouldn’t stand a chance. “For now you may call me Slater. I’m going to ask you some questions and if you know what’s good for you, you’re going to answer.” John smiled a humorless grin. “You might as well give up now, I’m sworn to secrecy by my boss. I’ll die before I tell you anything.” Before he even had time to register the fist coming toward him john’s head exploded with pain and he felt hot blood rushing from his nose. Slaters demeanor had completely changed. His eyes bore down on John with an alarming hatred. Although when he spoke his voice was just as calm as before. “I know who you are John. Your work involves taking innocent people and placing them in the position you find yourself in right now. Hostages, ransoms, assassinations. What I need from you is the names of your most recent victims.” John’s head was spinning and his mouth was filled with the coppery tang of blood. He knew he was in a bad position but he also knew what ever slater did to him couldn’t be worse then what his employer would do if he spilled information. “That information is between me and my clients. No one else, and it’s going to stay that way.” “Your making this difficult.” Slater sighed. “ let me make something very clear to you, I am not a good man. I work with a group of people who do volunteer work at orphanages and help the homeless, but I am not a good man. My friends on the other hand are the most kind hearted people I know, they absolutely love the work we do. So you might understand why I was more then upset to wake up and find them gone. So all I need is those names because I know someone took them. I have no problem doing what ever I have to to get you to talk.” “I-I don’t get names. All I’m told is faces and locations. I’d tell y-you if I could but I don’t know!” John cried. “Liar!” Slater screamed. This time the punch hit John square in the jaw. He didn’t remember the chair tipping but when the room stopped spinning he was on the floor. Slater laid into him with kick after kick until each breath felt as though someone had stuffed his lungs with broken glass. “Please! I don’t know!” John whimpered. “I really d-don’t know.” Slater sat on John’s chest and pulled a small knife out of his belt. He drove the knife into his eye. John screamed in agony and thrashed against the ropes that held him to the chair. “Names! I need names or the other eye goes to!” Slater yelled. “P-please n-n-no.” John croaked. “I’ll talk. “ he took a deep breath and prayed his boss would be kind. “Sam Parks, Jason Smith, Richard O’clock and Jackson sky.” Slater got up without a word and grabbed a piece of paper with a list of names. He crossed out John Henderson and headed towards the door. “You can’t leave me here! I told you what you wanted. Let me go!” John yelled. Slater turned to look at him. “Those aren’t my friends and don’t worry I’ll leave a note so your boss can find you.” Slater walked out into the cold evening air, the sound of johns sobbing faded in the distance. He looked down at his list and scanned it until he found the next name. “I’ll find you guys, I promise. No matter how many people I have to hurt.”
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	After my parents died early on in my life, I wasn't the same cheerful person I always was. I started taking dangerous missions and fighting monsters I could barely beat on my own. I was aimless, without a purpose, trying to fill an endless void with mere adrenaline. It didn't work. But I was lucky, because it was at my lowest point where I found them. The void in my soul was filled, even overflowing! Five unique people, friendly, adventurous, exciting... loving. I had- correction, they had found me, and we became a tight knit family. And one day they were gone. Like they vanished out of the face of the earth, without a notice, without a word. I panicked, wondered if they left me... But I knew them, I trusted myself in what I knew about them, and I knew they wouldn't had just gone and left, without a word, without a sound. I was always my best self when around them, didn't even need to try, they were just that important to me that I wouldn't even think of anything hurtful. But they weren't here now. They were gone, something was up and they couldn't see what I was going to do to get them back. First I broke into the office of the city's leader, killed a few of his guards and interrogated him. If he knew nothing about my friends, sorry, goodbye, you never saw me. But he knew, he lied to me because he knew the people I was talking about. For each lie I cut a finger... and he lied a lot. It was too bad I had gotten used to being lied to, lying and in consequence knowing when someone was lying. After losing three of his fingers he knew I wasn't easily fooled. Then he tried to misdirect me, which also didn't work. When he finally decided it wasn't worth the pain, he let out most of what he knew. He claimed it was all, but I knew it wasn't. It didn't matter though, so I didn't comment. The five had actually gotten into a large debt before meeting me. It wasn't a simple debt either, not with how much the governor tried to cover it up. Adventuring is an expensive habit for beginners. The only reason I was able to begin a solo path in it was from my parents money in the first place. My family on the other hand had no choice but to borrow a large amount of money, for equipment, consumables, magic scrolls, etc. Their large need of money was also what led them to be more... reckless, than others. Well, it wasn't a difference from my previous activities, if anything it was safer, but it was also our first common ground. Shaking my head, I focused on the task at hand. Before they got sold off or killed for their bodies I had to get them back. Where and what would I do to get them? Well, for starters the city had to go, too hard with it in place. Thus my starting point was in an alchemist's alcove... well, former alchemist's alcove, now it was mine. Poison this, poison that... that's just stupid, just fuck up with the water and you're done. Due to not knowing if my friends would also be affected by the poison, I chose something non-lethal. Well, if everyone is on the toilet it's hard to defend against a monster rampage, isn't it? My thoughts exactly! Located near the outskirts of the city, the stronghold which was most likely holding my friends was hit first and was hit hard. Of course, I had to do a lot of work to lure a few hundred monsters to a specific part of the city, but I had dealt with worse. The gates were broken down in mere minuted without anyone to hold position and the stronghold was much the same. I continued inside what should have been my grave if I went on my own, trying to find my friends. It was hard to believe this was city sanctioned, but alas, the city needs that one more extra income source! Well, it wasn't about to continue being a source for much longer, but it still made me annoyed. Weakened people tried to fight off monsters that were in general stronger than a average adventurer. It didn't work. The city wasn't that badly affected, not many innocent individuals died, while also not many guards died. The exception was my point of focus, which barely had a door standing at the end of my stroll. The prisoners were protected in the metal cages, all weakened by my poison, but a few certain five wouldn't be for much longer. Of course, they made me share my remaining antidote with a few of the other people they made me free. This whole situation made me feel weird about myself. Would they assume I had just gone up and saved them, or would they ask? And if they asked, would I say the truth? As I stared at the beaten and rugged figures of my friends, I thought I really shouldn't had left everyone off that easily. At least I had killed off the city's leader whom seemed to be guy behind all of this. Thankfully no one was dead, I dreaded to even think of what I would had done to this poor city if that had happened... Well, to be honest, it isn't something hard to imagine. That alchemist wasn't a friendly person, I wasn't a friendly person, and when you combine the willingness of a madman with the seriousness of a scared alchemist you get really bad results.	John felt the pounding in his head before he had even opened his eyes. As the fog in his mind began to clear he discovered that he was unable to move. He sat upright, tightly bound to a chair in an abandoned bar. The only light in the room came from two filthy windows by the door and a lantern that hung from the ceiling. Movement caught his eye, he turned his head just in time to see a man step out from behind the bar. “Ahhhh, finally awake are we?” The man said. “Who are you?” “I’ll be the one asking the questions today and who I am will become abundantly clear soon enough.” The man walked over and stood directly in front of John. He was oddly calm with an almost amused expression and not very intimidating. John was certain if he were untied the man wouldn’t stand a chance. “For now you may call me Slater. I’m going to ask you some questions and if you know what’s good for you, you’re going to answer.” John smiled a humorless grin. “You might as well give up now, I’m sworn to secrecy by my boss. I’ll die before I tell you anything.” Before he even had time to register the fist coming toward him john’s head exploded with pain and he felt hot blood rushing from his nose. Slaters demeanor had completely changed. His eyes bore down on John with an alarming hatred. Although when he spoke his voice was just as calm as before. “I know who you are John. Your work involves taking innocent people and placing them in the position you find yourself in right now. Hostages, ransoms, assassinations. What I need from you is the names of your most recent victims.” John’s head was spinning and his mouth was filled with the coppery tang of blood. He knew he was in a bad position but he also knew what ever slater did to him couldn’t be worse then what his employer would do if he spilled information. “That information is between me and my clients. No one else, and it’s going to stay that way.” “Your making this difficult.” Slater sighed. “ let me make something very clear to you, I am not a good man. I work with a group of people who do volunteer work at orphanages and help the homeless, but I am not a good man. My friends on the other hand are the most kind hearted people I know, they absolutely love the work we do. So you might understand why I was more then upset to wake up and find them gone. So all I need is those names because I know someone took them. I have no problem doing what ever I have to to get you to talk.” “I-I don’t get names. All I’m told is faces and locations. I’d tell y-you if I could but I don’t know!” John cried. “Liar!” Slater screamed. This time the punch hit John square in the jaw. He didn’t remember the chair tipping but when the room stopped spinning he was on the floor. Slater laid into him with kick after kick until each breath felt as though someone had stuffed his lungs with broken glass. “Please! I don’t know!” John whimpered. “I really d-don’t know.” Slater sat on John’s chest and pulled a small knife out of his belt. He drove the knife into his eye. John screamed in agony and thrashed against the ropes that held him to the chair. “Names! I need names or the other eye goes to!” Slater yelled. “P-please n-n-no.” John croaked. “I’ll talk. “ he took a deep breath and prayed his boss would be kind. “Sam Parks, Jason Smith, Richard O’clock and Jackson sky.” Slater got up without a word and grabbed a piece of paper with a list of names. He crossed out John Henderson and headed towards the door. “You can’t leave me here! I told you what you wanted. Let me go!” John yelled. Slater turned to look at him. “Those aren’t my friends and don’t worry I’ll leave a note so your boss can find you.” Slater walked out into the cold evening air, the sound of johns sobbing faded in the distance. He looked down at his list and scanned it until he found the next name. “I’ll find you guys, I promise. No matter how many people I have to hurt.”
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	Black hardened leather, oiled to easy silence, gave a softer creak than the roofbeam the black-furred Suthay-Raht trod along its length. Below, in the Great Hall of High Rock, the 'good' Lord Malthon and his cronies feasted. Kasim-dar knew that Malthon was secretly a Wormking agent. He knew that he had been called on by his old Listener to handle one last Black Sacrament, called out by name by the petitioner. In doing reconnaissance, he had learned of their necromantic leanings. He had also learned they were the one responsible for the disappearance of his friends. Good people. A pair of Dunmeri twins, Aile and Werth, one a follower of Lady Azura, the other a staunch worshiper of the Triumvirate, which had led to very interesting conversations. An Orc from the Fighter's Guild, Gro-bar, originally from the strongholds. An Argonian who had studied under the Telvanni, Haj-In. And lastly, but not least, his erstwhile partner in crime, Rajina-la, ever graceful, the supple agility to his own sinuous frame. She was his first theft, actually, stolen from a Breton plantation during one of his last assignments from the Dark Brotherhood. It had been two weeks since they had all vanished. It had been a mere six since they had all begun working to destroy a cult of necromancers in the town, who had been terrorizing the villages. It had been Haj-In who had performed the Sacrament... on himself. With his dying breaths he had told the Listener just eight words. "Lord Malthon. Worm. Give this only to Kasim-dar." Now, however, it was time to go to work. How Haj-In had known, the Khajiit didn't know. But this was work he had tried to put behind him when they had banded together, five years ago. He'd hidden his skills from them, because he desperately wanted, needed, to leave that life behind him. Time to go to work. Fingers traced a ward against necromantic energy, powered by one of a number of scrolls on his person. Those same fingers then twisted into a mystic position of attack while he leveled the crossbow and fired, spell and bolt both cutting down their targets. Before anyone could do more than stare agape at the dying men, the assassin dropped from the rafters, throwing daggers with long-practiced flicks of wrist and finger. None of their marks breathed once more. And then, as he drew his trademark daggers, one forged of enchanted glass, the other enchanted ebony, he brutally drove both footpaws into Malthon's gut, knocking his entire wooden throne over. Death-magic clawed at him from their protective wards, but failed to grip his essence thanks to his own spell. And now, at last, he was face to face with his friends' abductor. "Lord Malthon! This one wants you to understand the depth of your troubles, so he will do something rarely heard of." He knelt down, muzzle to face with the Breton. "You will tell me what I want to know, or I will rip you to pieces and feed you to Sithis myself. Where are my friends?"	John felt the pounding in his head before he had even opened his eyes. As the fog in his mind began to clear he discovered that he was unable to move. He sat upright, tightly bound to a chair in an abandoned bar. The only light in the room came from two filthy windows by the door and a lantern that hung from the ceiling. Movement caught his eye, he turned his head just in time to see a man step out from behind the bar. “Ahhhh, finally awake are we?” The man said. “Who are you?” “I’ll be the one asking the questions today and who I am will become abundantly clear soon enough.” The man walked over and stood directly in front of John. He was oddly calm with an almost amused expression and not very intimidating. John was certain if he were untied the man wouldn’t stand a chance. “For now you may call me Slater. I’m going to ask you some questions and if you know what’s good for you, you’re going to answer.” John smiled a humorless grin. “You might as well give up now, I’m sworn to secrecy by my boss. I’ll die before I tell you anything.” Before he even had time to register the fist coming toward him john’s head exploded with pain and he felt hot blood rushing from his nose. Slaters demeanor had completely changed. His eyes bore down on John with an alarming hatred. Although when he spoke his voice was just as calm as before. “I know who you are John. Your work involves taking innocent people and placing them in the position you find yourself in right now. Hostages, ransoms, assassinations. What I need from you is the names of your most recent victims.” John’s head was spinning and his mouth was filled with the coppery tang of blood. He knew he was in a bad position but he also knew what ever slater did to him couldn’t be worse then what his employer would do if he spilled information. “That information is between me and my clients. No one else, and it’s going to stay that way.” “Your making this difficult.” Slater sighed. “ let me make something very clear to you, I am not a good man. I work with a group of people who do volunteer work at orphanages and help the homeless, but I am not a good man. My friends on the other hand are the most kind hearted people I know, they absolutely love the work we do. So you might understand why I was more then upset to wake up and find them gone. So all I need is those names because I know someone took them. I have no problem doing what ever I have to to get you to talk.” “I-I don’t get names. All I’m told is faces and locations. I’d tell y-you if I could but I don’t know!” John cried. “Liar!” Slater screamed. This time the punch hit John square in the jaw. He didn’t remember the chair tipping but when the room stopped spinning he was on the floor. Slater laid into him with kick after kick until each breath felt as though someone had stuffed his lungs with broken glass. “Please! I don’t know!” John whimpered. “I really d-don’t know.” Slater sat on John’s chest and pulled a small knife out of his belt. He drove the knife into his eye. John screamed in agony and thrashed against the ropes that held him to the chair. “Names! I need names or the other eye goes to!” Slater yelled. “P-please n-n-no.” John croaked. “I’ll talk. “ he took a deep breath and prayed his boss would be kind. “Sam Parks, Jason Smith, Richard O’clock and Jackson sky.” Slater got up without a word and grabbed a piece of paper with a list of names. He crossed out John Henderson and headed towards the door. “You can’t leave me here! I told you what you wanted. Let me go!” John yelled. Slater turned to look at him. “Those aren’t my friends and don’t worry I’ll leave a note so your boss can find you.” Slater walked out into the cold evening air, the sound of johns sobbing faded in the distance. He looked down at his list and scanned it until he found the next name. “I’ll find you guys, I promise. No matter how many people I have to hurt.”
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	"Steel City Stalwarts, unite!" Comet Lad flew in and landed on Sergeant Static's right side. Nightshade Assassin swung down on one of her vines. Silver Cypher's armor hissed and clicked as the cooling systems compensated for the afterburners he'd used to get here. The Gray Gorrilla took the rear, his massive body throwing a shade over all of them. The team all looked ready to take on the entire force of Eric Nasty's henchman, collectively and individually. Except for one. Coming standing behind one of the Gorrilla's legs was Tigerlily, her uniform barely dusty from the fighting. She looked, as she always did, just a little like she was about to run. The Sergeant didn't seem to notice her fear. His eyes were on the tactical situation as his mind ran through strategies at lightning speed. He said, "There's no way we can find the Mayor in time as a group. We need to split up. Gray G, you clear this floor and start working up. Nightshade, you and me work our way down to the parking garage. Comet, start on the roof and meet Gray G in the middle. Cypher, hack into their cameras and find the mayor and find that bomb!" As their leader lifted Static Staff to give the call to action, Tigerlily said, "What do you need me to do boss?" Sergeant turned around and said, "Just stay here. Hold up in the courtroom over there. We'll bring the wounded to you. Heal them, then get them out. Can you handle that." The tiny lass said, "Yes sir! I won't let you down!" Sergeant Static reached out and ruffled her hair affectionately. "That's my girl. Everyone, to the rescue!" They all shouted in unison, "To the rescue!" They flew away. The Sergeant looked over his shoulder and made sure that Tigerlily made it to the courtroom where she'd wait. When they got to the door to the stairs, Nightshade Princess said, "You have to stop treating her like a kid. She's one of us. She's a superhero." Sergeant said, "She's a kid who can heal people. I'm tired of sending kids into battle, Shade." The princess of poisonous plants rolled her eyes, which contrasted with the proud smile. In the courtroom, though, Tigerlily was not smiling. Eric Nasty and fifteen of his Nastymen were standing, their weapons drawn. Eric stood over the bomb, his hands on the panel to enter the password, the last step to arming it. When he saw the white-clad healer, he drew his pistol and pointed at her. "Look what we got here! The mascot!" Tigerlily said, "You'll never defeat the Stalwarts! Just give up!" Eric stood, laughing. "Will I? And how will they defeat me, brat, without their powers?" She shook her head. "What?" Eric pointed to the bomb. "You super dummy's are all the same. I don't just mean that sickening sense of self righteousness. I mean that I figured it out. Every superhero, every one I could get a DNA sample for, you all derive your power from the same source. Would you like to know what it is? Get ready... it's aliens." The girl balled up her fists, "You're crazy." "No, I'm brilliant. I may not fly or shoot lightning or juggle sedans, but I have a power. I've got a mind sharp enough to split atoms. I also have money and I paid a lot for the remains of a very special ship recently brought up from the ocean. Atlantis was real! Aliens are real! The great pulse that turned people into superfreaks came from their technology. In a few minutes, I'm going to demosntrate all that, and unless you're wearing a countermeasure charm, like I am, say goodbye to your abilities and hello to the reign of Nasty!" Eric cackled. His men laughed and raised their blasters. And then one exploded. The room went dead. Tigerlily wasn't by the door anymore. She was standing within arms reach of where the ex-Nastyman had stood, his body now a spray of red chunks and foul smells. Eric said, "What the...?" Tigerlilly's body moved so fast that all you could see was a white blur. Her hands fell on two more. They detonated, the same way that their teammate had. She said, "No." Eric screamed, "Fire!" Tigerlily jumped as numerous bolts of light scorched the floor. She landed on the shoulders of another Nastyman. She twisted his head in a circle. Before he could fall, she leapt to another; his comrades cut him down trying to shoot her, along with the two on either side of him. Eric stopped firing. He dove for the bomb. Tigerlilly did a backflip and landed on ballet point on the top of another henchman's head. He splattered downward, his splattering like it had been dropped from the 50th floor. Tigerlilly's eyes were glass marbles, her mouth a small and straight line. She glided from soldier to soldier, each one either being ended with a quick and efficent blow or turned to vapor. Eric tapped out the password, but nerves and shaking fingers got him a "DENIED" on the screen. He tried it again. Same result. He tried to ignore the screams of his personal guard as they died all around him. "C'mon, c'mon... oh, crap that's the wrong password." He started to type in the right one, but he found he did not have a hand. He stared at the stump, weaping blood, and screamed. He looked up and saw tigerlilly, holding his hand like it was attached to an invisible crossing guard. "You don't get to speak about Atlantis," she said. "They were kind people, before the earthquake. They showed my people the first kindness we'd seen in a thousand worlds. That is, except for one. He was like you." Tigerlilly dropped the hand. Behind her, Eric could see a few corpses, but mostly he saw human sized stains. Somehow, the girl's clothes were still pristine. "He built weapons. We shared our tech at first. But then we saw what your kind might do with with it. We saw the darkness in your hearts, only too late. It sank the greatest city in your short history into the ocean. Your kind and my kind were both lost, save for a very few. We made a promise that day, one you're trying to undo." "Get away from me!" Eric shouted, trying to tie his belt around his arm stump. "For ten thousand years, I've given powers to your people. Manipulating your flesh is so easy. Eric stammered, "You... you what? But I-" "So many use them well. A few, not so much. Either way, it keeps you fighting amongst yourselves. The few of great power in an internal struggle while the rest of the world is content to wait and see what you do. "I will not see you reveal us. I will not see you try to undo ten millenia of guidance and nurturing. You, Eric, are the worst of your kind. While I will do anything it takes to see that your infant race not only remaisn thinking you're the greatest, fiercest, most dangerous creatures in the universe, but that you never advance so far that find out what really holds that title. Lucky for you that it was us, their little cousins that found you. "Now die." The doors burst open. The Sergeant and Nightshade were first. Silver Cypher flew in and said, "I knew it! This room was the only one with the cameras blocked out it had to be here!" The Sargeant yelled, "Where's Tigerlily?" A small voice said, "Here." They all turned and found her hugging her knees on the floor. Nightshade dashed, wrapping her leafy arms around the girl like a mother. "Oh T.L., did they hurt you?" The girl shook her head. "I found them like this. I think the bomb backfired." Sargeant Static said, "We should have found it faster." Cypher said, "It's okay. We all missed it." The Sargeant looked around the room. "Doesn't matter now. Let's get Tigerlilly and ourselves the hell out of here." Nightshade covered the girl's ears. "Language!" Tigerlilly giggled. "It's okay, Shade. I'm a big girl. I can take it."	John felt the pounding in his head before he had even opened his eyes. As the fog in his mind began to clear he discovered that he was unable to move. He sat upright, tightly bound to a chair in an abandoned bar. The only light in the room came from two filthy windows by the door and a lantern that hung from the ceiling. Movement caught his eye, he turned his head just in time to see a man step out from behind the bar. “Ahhhh, finally awake are we?” The man said. “Who are you?” “I’ll be the one asking the questions today and who I am will become abundantly clear soon enough.” The man walked over and stood directly in front of John. He was oddly calm with an almost amused expression and not very intimidating. John was certain if he were untied the man wouldn’t stand a chance. “For now you may call me Slater. I’m going to ask you some questions and if you know what’s good for you, you’re going to answer.” John smiled a humorless grin. “You might as well give up now, I’m sworn to secrecy by my boss. I’ll die before I tell you anything.” Before he even had time to register the fist coming toward him john’s head exploded with pain and he felt hot blood rushing from his nose. Slaters demeanor had completely changed. His eyes bore down on John with an alarming hatred. Although when he spoke his voice was just as calm as before. “I know who you are John. Your work involves taking innocent people and placing them in the position you find yourself in right now. Hostages, ransoms, assassinations. What I need from you is the names of your most recent victims.” John’s head was spinning and his mouth was filled with the coppery tang of blood. He knew he was in a bad position but he also knew what ever slater did to him couldn’t be worse then what his employer would do if he spilled information. “That information is between me and my clients. No one else, and it’s going to stay that way.” “Your making this difficult.” Slater sighed. “ let me make something very clear to you, I am not a good man. I work with a group of people who do volunteer work at orphanages and help the homeless, but I am not a good man. My friends on the other hand are the most kind hearted people I know, they absolutely love the work we do. So you might understand why I was more then upset to wake up and find them gone. So all I need is those names because I know someone took them. I have no problem doing what ever I have to to get you to talk.” “I-I don’t get names. All I’m told is faces and locations. I’d tell y-you if I could but I don’t know!” John cried. “Liar!” Slater screamed. This time the punch hit John square in the jaw. He didn’t remember the chair tipping but when the room stopped spinning he was on the floor. Slater laid into him with kick after kick until each breath felt as though someone had stuffed his lungs with broken glass. “Please! I don’t know!” John whimpered. “I really d-don’t know.” Slater sat on John’s chest and pulled a small knife out of his belt. He drove the knife into his eye. John screamed in agony and thrashed against the ropes that held him to the chair. “Names! I need names or the other eye goes to!” Slater yelled. “P-please n-n-no.” John croaked. “I’ll talk. “ he took a deep breath and prayed his boss would be kind. “Sam Parks, Jason Smith, Richard O’clock and Jackson sky.” Slater got up without a word and grabbed a piece of paper with a list of names. He crossed out John Henderson and headed towards the door. “You can’t leave me here! I told you what you wanted. Let me go!” John yelled. Slater turned to look at him. “Those aren’t my friends and don’t worry I’ll leave a note so your boss can find you.” Slater walked out into the cold evening air, the sound of johns sobbing faded in the distance. He looked down at his list and scanned it until he found the next name. “I’ll find you guys, I promise. No matter how many people I have to hurt.”
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	Drascar. Every black market, mafia, and crime syndicate on the continent can be traced back to this city, so much so that it's often called the City of Thieves. When the others went missing I knew I had to pay a visit to my old home town. Even just walking down the road through the outskirts of the town you can feel the eyes on you. Well, that may just be me. It's not every day that the famed Master of the Raging Flame, one of the world's greatest heroes, visits a city whose biggest export is crime. I'm sure by now the news of Heavenly Paladin Kranor and Beast Master Srakan going missing has reached this place, and I'm even more sure that the people behind it are in one of the mansions towards the centre of town. Or perhaps they're in a hidden compound bellow one. You can never tell with Drascar. Either way, I know that I can't just barge in alone. I have a reputation to uphold, and when I get the others back I don't want them hearing about how their dear friend burned down a city and murdered the inhabitants in a raging inferno, no matter how crime ridden it is. Something tells me Kranor would scold me about "cold blooded murder" and "we thought we were past this." Srakan would just stare, silently disapproving. I can't take that, their disappointment, so I'm going to do this right. I'll start with the children, the orphans and urchins. I know from experience that they hear much more than people think, and are willing to part with that information for a few copper coins. Throw in a good meal for them and their friends and they'll die for you. Having arrived at a small orphanage, I politely knock on the door. Kranor said it got better results than just blowing it up with a fireball, and it seems he was right, as instead of running away screaming a young woman stuck her head out. "What? We haven't missed any payments." Unusually articulate for a resident of this rotten semblance of a town. "No, ma'am, I'm sorry to bother you. I'm looking for some information, and was hoping that your charges had heard something that may help me." She looked at me warily, undoubtedly suspecting a trap or scam of some kind. "I don't think-" The sight of silver quickly changed her mind, and she opens the door quickly. I pressed the coin into her hands while brushing past her further into the orphanage. Kranor said charity was good, perhaps his god would smile upon me and give me a hint. Or maybe he'd fuck me over again, I don't put much faith in the gods. The orphans, of course, didn't want to talk to me. They were scared, I could tell because they even turned downy copper. They'd seen something, otherwise they'd have taken the coin and spent a few days on the street laying low so I didn't come after them having learned of their lies. Someone powerful had commited this crime, and they were too afraid to speak out against them, even in private. Of course, when I summoned a flame into my hand and threatened to burn them all their tongues loosened considerably. I left a few coins with them on my way out, enough to feed them for a month, so Kranor wouldn't be too angry if he found out. The mansion I got directions to from the orphans was the largest in the city. Of course it was, who other than the Lord of Drascar had the resources to kidnap two of the three members of Zeriol's Chosen? I didn't bother knocking this time. The smoldering ruins of the large double doors were blown into the entrance hall, and the guards standing before them were reduced to ash by my fury. The flames licked around me as I stormed into the mansion. Bodies fell like a fiery rain as the guards further into the house rushed towards me, and I will admit that I lost track of myself for a while, nothing but the endless roaring flame whipping around me. The gibbering Lord directed me towards the basement before being reduced to ash, and there I found myself, my flames extinguished by a sight I had never expected. Kranor, stripped of his armour, covered in wounds weeping blood. Srakan, curled up beside the remains of his great black wolf, a dagger through his chest. Neither drew breath. Kranor... Srakan... I need you! What do I do! What do I do?! I need you to guide me, I can't... I... What do I... No. I don't... They won't know any more. They can't guide me any longer, I won't feel their disapproving stares ever again... This... This is my choice. Here, now, I choose what direction my life takes. I can't follow them any further, so now I must step up and make my own choice. I could feel the flames respond to my will, wrapping around me, supporting me. In the end, only the flames will never leave me. I strode out of the sea of ashes once known as Drascar, City of Thieves. So many more must pay, so many more caused this pain, and the flames still hunger. The merchants who sold armor that could not protect Kranor, the woods whose beasts did not defend Srakan, the King who gave us this mission, the inn that did not hold them when I awoke. All of you... All of you will feed the flames of my wrath, and you shall burn until not even ashes proclaim that you once were.	John felt the pounding in his head before he had even opened his eyes. As the fog in his mind began to clear he discovered that he was unable to move. He sat upright, tightly bound to a chair in an abandoned bar. The only light in the room came from two filthy windows by the door and a lantern that hung from the ceiling. Movement caught his eye, he turned his head just in time to see a man step out from behind the bar. “Ahhhh, finally awake are we?” The man said. “Who are you?” “I’ll be the one asking the questions today and who I am will become abundantly clear soon enough.” The man walked over and stood directly in front of John. He was oddly calm with an almost amused expression and not very intimidating. John was certain if he were untied the man wouldn’t stand a chance. “For now you may call me Slater. I’m going to ask you some questions and if you know what’s good for you, you’re going to answer.” John smiled a humorless grin. “You might as well give up now, I’m sworn to secrecy by my boss. I’ll die before I tell you anything.” Before he even had time to register the fist coming toward him john’s head exploded with pain and he felt hot blood rushing from his nose. Slaters demeanor had completely changed. His eyes bore down on John with an alarming hatred. Although when he spoke his voice was just as calm as before. “I know who you are John. Your work involves taking innocent people and placing them in the position you find yourself in right now. Hostages, ransoms, assassinations. What I need from you is the names of your most recent victims.” John’s head was spinning and his mouth was filled with the coppery tang of blood. He knew he was in a bad position but he also knew what ever slater did to him couldn’t be worse then what his employer would do if he spilled information. “That information is between me and my clients. No one else, and it’s going to stay that way.” “Your making this difficult.” Slater sighed. “ let me make something very clear to you, I am not a good man. I work with a group of people who do volunteer work at orphanages and help the homeless, but I am not a good man. My friends on the other hand are the most kind hearted people I know, they absolutely love the work we do. So you might understand why I was more then upset to wake up and find them gone. So all I need is those names because I know someone took them. I have no problem doing what ever I have to to get you to talk.” “I-I don’t get names. All I’m told is faces and locations. I’d tell y-you if I could but I don’t know!” John cried. “Liar!” Slater screamed. This time the punch hit John square in the jaw. He didn’t remember the chair tipping but when the room stopped spinning he was on the floor. Slater laid into him with kick after kick until each breath felt as though someone had stuffed his lungs with broken glass. “Please! I don’t know!” John whimpered. “I really d-don’t know.” Slater sat on John’s chest and pulled a small knife out of his belt. He drove the knife into his eye. John screamed in agony and thrashed against the ropes that held him to the chair. “Names! I need names or the other eye goes to!” Slater yelled. “P-please n-n-no.” John croaked. “I’ll talk. “ he took a deep breath and prayed his boss would be kind. “Sam Parks, Jason Smith, Richard O’clock and Jackson sky.” Slater got up without a word and grabbed a piece of paper with a list of names. He crossed out John Henderson and headed towards the door. “You can’t leave me here! I told you what you wanted. Let me go!” John yelled. Slater turned to look at him. “Those aren’t my friends and don’t worry I’ll leave a note so your boss can find you.” Slater walked out into the cold evening air, the sound of johns sobbing faded in the distance. He looked down at his list and scanned it until he found the next name. “I’ll find you guys, I promise. No matter how many people I have to hurt.”
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	I am a necromancer. My party knows this. Skorndrick Gristle, the Lost, at your service. In fact, the way I've worked myself out, my spells and my fighting capabilities, I'm probably the strongest member of our party. Do any of them suspect this? No. As far as they're concerned, I'm a good person who just.... helps the dead ease into the afterlife. And if that means telling them the dead wish to help, then that's what I've done. They've even got a joke excuse for me and my enchanted shovel- it's for digging "trenches". One time I bullshitted some suspicious librarians that didn't want to loan me a necromancy book with "The dead know the truth. There is meaning behind their existence. We all die, it doesn't have to be a bad thing. They need help, and I'm here for them." Another time I told a guard I was resurrecting a dead man because he'd requested being allowed to help protect the town he'd so loved in life. That was a lie, as well. And my party believed me. Of course they did. Naturally they've had their suspicions, of course. They've even been suspicious of our Oathbreaker Paladin, but he's a paladin so he can't be that suspicious. And to help that, I've always been cautious around them. Always. I've never had a reason to make them question me, more or less. Doing bad things for the right reasons is still doing something with good intentions for the benefit of more than just yourself. I've always told myself they didn't need to see the side of me that was kicked out of the dwarven cities for my actions, that they didn't deserve to experience what those who knew me back at home did. Until now. Until that awful man took them and threatened them and hurt them and hid them away. I wasn't there with them when they need me to be. I was away, teasing bones out of the teeth of the dragon I had raised from the grave with the Oathbreaker. Each time Heskan, my dragon, consumes a living being, he becomes a little more alive, a little less skeletal, flesh and sinew regenerating into place from rotting tendrils of death magic I amplified with the Oathbreaker to bring back. We'd been recovering in the privacy of a forest grove outside of the city when it happened, and I didn't find out until the next day. I always sleep with Heskan- his ribcage has hammocks of burlap for our stuff, and it's free real estate, so why not? Some of our party jokes he's the "Bone Bus", and I'll be the first to admit that's what he's mostly for. But now that man- the general of this shit kingdom's tiny, half-assed army- has my friends. He's locked them up, lied and said they were invaders or demons or spies or whatever nonsense befit each of them in his mind. All so he could power trip over visitors. And I will not permit that. Heskan and I are outside of a three hundred year old graveyard that's housed every dead member of this city since its founding, all closely buried together to save space. That's quite a bit of fodder for me to abuse, and Heskan agrees. It won't take me long, most of the night maybe, but missing a night's worth of sleep in exchange for an undying army is well worth the cost to save my party. They're good people. And they deserve me.	John felt the pounding in his head before he had even opened his eyes. As the fog in his mind began to clear he discovered that he was unable to move. He sat upright, tightly bound to a chair in an abandoned bar. The only light in the room came from two filthy windows by the door and a lantern that hung from the ceiling. Movement caught his eye, he turned his head just in time to see a man step out from behind the bar. “Ahhhh, finally awake are we?” The man said. “Who are you?” “I’ll be the one asking the questions today and who I am will become abundantly clear soon enough.” The man walked over and stood directly in front of John. He was oddly calm with an almost amused expression and not very intimidating. John was certain if he were untied the man wouldn’t stand a chance. “For now you may call me Slater. I’m going to ask you some questions and if you know what’s good for you, you’re going to answer.” John smiled a humorless grin. “You might as well give up now, I’m sworn to secrecy by my boss. I’ll die before I tell you anything.” Before he even had time to register the fist coming toward him john’s head exploded with pain and he felt hot blood rushing from his nose. Slaters demeanor had completely changed. His eyes bore down on John with an alarming hatred. Although when he spoke his voice was just as calm as before. “I know who you are John. Your work involves taking innocent people and placing them in the position you find yourself in right now. Hostages, ransoms, assassinations. What I need from you is the names of your most recent victims.” John’s head was spinning and his mouth was filled with the coppery tang of blood. He knew he was in a bad position but he also knew what ever slater did to him couldn’t be worse then what his employer would do if he spilled information. “That information is between me and my clients. No one else, and it’s going to stay that way.” “Your making this difficult.” Slater sighed. “ let me make something very clear to you, I am not a good man. I work with a group of people who do volunteer work at orphanages and help the homeless, but I am not a good man. My friends on the other hand are the most kind hearted people I know, they absolutely love the work we do. So you might understand why I was more then upset to wake up and find them gone. So all I need is those names because I know someone took them. I have no problem doing what ever I have to to get you to talk.” “I-I don’t get names. All I’m told is faces and locations. I’d tell y-you if I could but I don’t know!” John cried. “Liar!” Slater screamed. This time the punch hit John square in the jaw. He didn’t remember the chair tipping but when the room stopped spinning he was on the floor. Slater laid into him with kick after kick until each breath felt as though someone had stuffed his lungs with broken glass. “Please! I don’t know!” John whimpered. “I really d-don’t know.” Slater sat on John’s chest and pulled a small knife out of his belt. He drove the knife into his eye. John screamed in agony and thrashed against the ropes that held him to the chair. “Names! I need names or the other eye goes to!” Slater yelled. “P-please n-n-no.” John croaked. “I’ll talk. “ he took a deep breath and prayed his boss would be kind. “Sam Parks, Jason Smith, Richard O’clock and Jackson sky.” Slater got up without a word and grabbed a piece of paper with a list of names. He crossed out John Henderson and headed towards the door. “You can’t leave me here! I told you what you wanted. Let me go!” John yelled. Slater turned to look at him. “Those aren’t my friends and don’t worry I’ll leave a note so your boss can find you.” Slater walked out into the cold evening air, the sound of johns sobbing faded in the distance. He looked down at his list and scanned it until he found the next name. “I’ll find you guys, I promise. No matter how many people I have to hurt.”
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	My party-my friends-have been missing for almost a week. We were supposed to meet up near the church and...they never showed. Lucky for me the church's priest invited me in, and allowed me to stay for the night last night. The climate had gotten cold, and our locksmith rogue kept the money safe, so I had none for an inn. It was last night I got my first clue. As I prepared to sleep, someone broke open the church door. They sounded like thugs, and as they tried to loot the donations vault, they were talking about the ransom they plan to get from the king using the princess and her esteemed guards. The princess and her guards...my friends. After a lovely chat with those fellows, I grabbed a clean set of monk's clothing from the church wardrobe; I promise to return them when I'm done, but it wouldn't do me any good to go through the town wearing bloodied rags. Sure, it'll be highly questionable seeing me dressed as a monk, but it's better than the alternative. I just need to find their friend, who hides in the sewer near the Rusty Flask, because that's who his dead friends directed me to. My arm! H-h-how did you bend it that waAAAaaaAAAugh!!!... Th-Those horns! W-w-what the hell are you-gh-gh-ghugh.... Teeth don't look like that, get away from me! Sto-AAAAAAAaaaaaugh.... Having the abilities of a demon has its advantages, but it would be nice if I could tone down the...let's just say "additional" features a little bit. At least I can hide the wings. Too much blood on me and they think I'm a vampire, which is hilarious, since vampires don't actually exist anymore. At least my friends knew that. They enjoyed having a reformed demigod on their side. Well, they think I'm a demigod, anyway. I'm not about to go and correct the only beings to ever care about me. Especially Princess Valeria. I never imagined someone of royalty could be so kind and empathetic. It's ok, Dremyoluok, its not your fault you are the way you are. Be proud of yourself for choosing your own destiny. Not every fallen angel gets a chance at redemption. Paul, Tri-Krimea, Folthum and myself, we will support you every inch of the way. You can help us protect the kingdom! That was almost 2 years ago, that they found me in that cave. I'll never forget the kindness they showed me, and the help they've rendered. It took me a few months of rehabilitation, but from then I've sworn that I won't let anyone bring harm upon my friends as long as I'm with them. No matter what. Paul the Monster-Slayer, Paladin of Thoruld, God of Righteous Might; Tri-Krimea, the elven naturalist and druid; Folthum the Wise, wielder of deep and powerful magic. They were eternally loyal to the naturally graceful and beautiful Princess Valeria; She is considered a top student at the High College of Magical Arts, having learned almost every healing spell along with many spells of both evocation and enchantment. I told them several half truths about myself, true enough to pass a Zone of Truth test, but not enough for them to know the full history of what I've done. I had truly stopped committing evil deeds only about 200 years before then, and had bound myself to that cave for almost 50 years. Truth is, I was turned into that form almost 2000 years ago, and the demonic power went straight to my head. Make of that what you will. I don't know how the bandits managed to capture them, but I know where to look now. They have a hideout a few miles north, and it only took an hour to extract the info from the bandit in the sewer. And how did he manage to also have seven friends hidden with him? At least there was enough clean water running through to get the blood off the robes. I can ditch the robes back by the church on my way out of town, before the sun rises. I won't need the rags on my mission. I'll leave an apology for the priest, and a small donation from those who no longer need their money. My friends...I can pick up their scents now. I've found the encampment. I hope they can forgive me for what will happen to these bandits...I should be able to get through the 30 bandits patrolling the perimeter before the rest notice the missing patrols. Who would've guessed only a few miles north of town, there was a bandit camp the size of a small city? Almost as many bandits as 3 villages worth of people. I think I might be about to knock out two birds with one stone here...save my friends, and solve the kingdom's bandit problem for a while...	John felt the pounding in his head before he had even opened his eyes. As the fog in his mind began to clear he discovered that he was unable to move. He sat upright, tightly bound to a chair in an abandoned bar. The only light in the room came from two filthy windows by the door and a lantern that hung from the ceiling. Movement caught his eye, he turned his head just in time to see a man step out from behind the bar. “Ahhhh, finally awake are we?” The man said. “Who are you?” “I’ll be the one asking the questions today and who I am will become abundantly clear soon enough.” The man walked over and stood directly in front of John. He was oddly calm with an almost amused expression and not very intimidating. John was certain if he were untied the man wouldn’t stand a chance. “For now you may call me Slater. I’m going to ask you some questions and if you know what’s good for you, you’re going to answer.” John smiled a humorless grin. “You might as well give up now, I’m sworn to secrecy by my boss. I’ll die before I tell you anything.” Before he even had time to register the fist coming toward him john’s head exploded with pain and he felt hot blood rushing from his nose. Slaters demeanor had completely changed. His eyes bore down on John with an alarming hatred. Although when he spoke his voice was just as calm as before. “I know who you are John. Your work involves taking innocent people and placing them in the position you find yourself in right now. Hostages, ransoms, assassinations. What I need from you is the names of your most recent victims.” John’s head was spinning and his mouth was filled with the coppery tang of blood. He knew he was in a bad position but he also knew what ever slater did to him couldn’t be worse then what his employer would do if he spilled information. “That information is between me and my clients. No one else, and it’s going to stay that way.” “Your making this difficult.” Slater sighed. “ let me make something very clear to you, I am not a good man. I work with a group of people who do volunteer work at orphanages and help the homeless, but I am not a good man. My friends on the other hand are the most kind hearted people I know, they absolutely love the work we do. So you might understand why I was more then upset to wake up and find them gone. So all I need is those names because I know someone took them. I have no problem doing what ever I have to to get you to talk.” “I-I don’t get names. All I’m told is faces and locations. I’d tell y-you if I could but I don’t know!” John cried. “Liar!” Slater screamed. This time the punch hit John square in the jaw. He didn’t remember the chair tipping but when the room stopped spinning he was on the floor. Slater laid into him with kick after kick until each breath felt as though someone had stuffed his lungs with broken glass. “Please! I don’t know!” John whimpered. “I really d-don’t know.” Slater sat on John’s chest and pulled a small knife out of his belt. He drove the knife into his eye. John screamed in agony and thrashed against the ropes that held him to the chair. “Names! I need names or the other eye goes to!” Slater yelled. “P-please n-n-no.” John croaked. “I’ll talk. “ he took a deep breath and prayed his boss would be kind. “Sam Parks, Jason Smith, Richard O’clock and Jackson sky.” Slater got up without a word and grabbed a piece of paper with a list of names. He crossed out John Henderson and headed towards the door. “You can’t leave me here! I told you what you wanted. Let me go!” John yelled. Slater turned to look at him. “Those aren’t my friends and don’t worry I’ll leave a note so your boss can find you.” Slater walked out into the cold evening air, the sound of johns sobbing faded in the distance. He looked down at his list and scanned it until he found the next name. “I’ll find you guys, I promise. No matter how many people I have to hurt.”
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	Help those in need. Protect the innocent. No one is beyond redemption. These are the rules I’ve lived by since joining up with The Good Guys, the name we gave ourselves when we set out to free the hamlets from the grips of a tyrant. My only friends. Eve was the one who brought me in to the group. A court jester turned vigilante, who kept her blade nearly as sharp as her tongue. She taught me that no one was beyond redemption. They would have been well within their rights to hang me for stealing the blade of morning from them. But with my back against a wall and sword at my throat she’s the one who plead my case. They needed a thief to steal it back, and I was the only one they knew. Marx disagreed. I’d spent a lifetime stealing and killing to get by. He believed, no he knew, those people deserved justice. He was right of course, I knew it then as well I know it now. It took months for him to trust me. Never letting me out of his sight less I hurt the innocents he swore to protect. I couldn’t believe my eyes as this man, who seemed more of a giant to me, was beaten down and captured by the mad kings men. Michael was the deciding vote. A warrior priest, who should have seen monster when he looked at me, but saw a broken man in need. He helped me more than he’ll ever know. He saved my life a dozen times over. I just hope I’m up to the task of returning the favor. Help those in need. Protect the innocent. No one is beyond redemption. These are the rules I’ve lived by since I met my friends. But they’ve all been taken, either prisoners or dead by King Matthew’s hand. And before I die I’ll see to it the mad king know why a good man doesn’t need rules.	John felt the pounding in his head before he had even opened his eyes. As the fog in his mind began to clear he discovered that he was unable to move. He sat upright, tightly bound to a chair in an abandoned bar. The only light in the room came from two filthy windows by the door and a lantern that hung from the ceiling. Movement caught his eye, he turned his head just in time to see a man step out from behind the bar. “Ahhhh, finally awake are we?” The man said. “Who are you?” “I’ll be the one asking the questions today and who I am will become abundantly clear soon enough.” The man walked over and stood directly in front of John. He was oddly calm with an almost amused expression and not very intimidating. John was certain if he were untied the man wouldn’t stand a chance. “For now you may call me Slater. I’m going to ask you some questions and if you know what’s good for you, you’re going to answer.” John smiled a humorless grin. “You might as well give up now, I’m sworn to secrecy by my boss. I’ll die before I tell you anything.” Before he even had time to register the fist coming toward him john’s head exploded with pain and he felt hot blood rushing from his nose. Slaters demeanor had completely changed. His eyes bore down on John with an alarming hatred. Although when he spoke his voice was just as calm as before. “I know who you are John. Your work involves taking innocent people and placing them in the position you find yourself in right now. Hostages, ransoms, assassinations. What I need from you is the names of your most recent victims.” John’s head was spinning and his mouth was filled with the coppery tang of blood. He knew he was in a bad position but he also knew what ever slater did to him couldn’t be worse then what his employer would do if he spilled information. “That information is between me and my clients. No one else, and it’s going to stay that way.” “Your making this difficult.” Slater sighed. “ let me make something very clear to you, I am not a good man. I work with a group of people who do volunteer work at orphanages and help the homeless, but I am not a good man. My friends on the other hand are the most kind hearted people I know, they absolutely love the work we do. So you might understand why I was more then upset to wake up and find them gone. So all I need is those names because I know someone took them. I have no problem doing what ever I have to to get you to talk.” “I-I don’t get names. All I’m told is faces and locations. I’d tell y-you if I could but I don’t know!” John cried. “Liar!” Slater screamed. This time the punch hit John square in the jaw. He didn’t remember the chair tipping but when the room stopped spinning he was on the floor. Slater laid into him with kick after kick until each breath felt as though someone had stuffed his lungs with broken glass. “Please! I don’t know!” John whimpered. “I really d-don’t know.” Slater sat on John’s chest and pulled a small knife out of his belt. He drove the knife into his eye. John screamed in agony and thrashed against the ropes that held him to the chair. “Names! I need names or the other eye goes to!” Slater yelled. “P-please n-n-no.” John croaked. “I’ll talk. “ he took a deep breath and prayed his boss would be kind. “Sam Parks, Jason Smith, Richard O’clock and Jackson sky.” Slater got up without a word and grabbed a piece of paper with a list of names. He crossed out John Henderson and headed towards the door. “You can’t leave me here! I told you what you wanted. Let me go!” John yelled. Slater turned to look at him. “Those aren’t my friends and don’t worry I’ll leave a note so your boss can find you.” Slater walked out into the cold evening air, the sound of johns sobbing faded in the distance. He looked down at his list and scanned it until he found the next name. “I’ll find you guys, I promise. No matter how many people I have to hurt.”
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	A grin on Silas' face. Sickly green lightning, coursing through his veins, occasionally sparking out from the bare skin. The ground beneath his feet scorching, with leaves hovering the air from the static spread by him. One guard fell. And another. Pure, unbridled power, kept secret for so long. He never dared to unleash his full power. Until now. Because it was needed. They did this. Those creatures. Silas was once one of them. A Damûn. But he broke free from the shackles. At least, partially. A part of him was still the unthinking beast. Killing, murdering. Pure instinct to hunt, feed, consume, and grow. And at this moment, he let that part of him free. The sane part of him was worried he would be addicted to its power. Or that it would consume too much, so much he would be unable to return. But his friends... they were good people. They helped Silas when they found him in a ditch by the road. They saw he was wounded. They saw he was different than Man or Elf or Dwarf. But they still helped him. They were fools, maybe, if they did this to anyone else but Silas. But deep within, Silas knew they could see he was good too. Saw the potential to be good. Slowly but surely, Silas pushed through the fortress. Bodies and crumbling foundation in his wake. Until he arrived at the center room. "So... you return to me... Silassss" a voice echoed through the room. And a figure appeared on a balcony above. Crackling energy filled the room and made Silas' hair stand up straight. "Maugaros!" Silas yelled. He clenched his fists. This would be it. A last stand. either he would walk out of here with his friends, perhaps afraid of his power. Or he would die, and his friends too. But it would be a worthy death. Silas prayed to the one god his friends worshipped, and felt his power surging. He saw the color of his lightning change to blue, and he knew Thor answered with a blessing. He heard the voice in his head roar. "Save my Son, Silas."	John felt the pounding in his head before he had even opened his eyes. As the fog in his mind began to clear he discovered that he was unable to move. He sat upright, tightly bound to a chair in an abandoned bar. The only light in the room came from two filthy windows by the door and a lantern that hung from the ceiling. Movement caught his eye, he turned his head just in time to see a man step out from behind the bar. “Ahhhh, finally awake are we?” The man said. “Who are you?” “I’ll be the one asking the questions today and who I am will become abundantly clear soon enough.” The man walked over and stood directly in front of John. He was oddly calm with an almost amused expression and not very intimidating. John was certain if he were untied the man wouldn’t stand a chance. “For now you may call me Slater. I’m going to ask you some questions and if you know what’s good for you, you’re going to answer.” John smiled a humorless grin. “You might as well give up now, I’m sworn to secrecy by my boss. I’ll die before I tell you anything.” Before he even had time to register the fist coming toward him john’s head exploded with pain and he felt hot blood rushing from his nose. Slaters demeanor had completely changed. His eyes bore down on John with an alarming hatred. Although when he spoke his voice was just as calm as before. “I know who you are John. Your work involves taking innocent people and placing them in the position you find yourself in right now. Hostages, ransoms, assassinations. What I need from you is the names of your most recent victims.” John’s head was spinning and his mouth was filled with the coppery tang of blood. He knew he was in a bad position but he also knew what ever slater did to him couldn’t be worse then what his employer would do if he spilled information. “That information is between me and my clients. No one else, and it’s going to stay that way.” “Your making this difficult.” Slater sighed. “ let me make something very clear to you, I am not a good man. I work with a group of people who do volunteer work at orphanages and help the homeless, but I am not a good man. My friends on the other hand are the most kind hearted people I know, they absolutely love the work we do. So you might understand why I was more then upset to wake up and find them gone. So all I need is those names because I know someone took them. I have no problem doing what ever I have to to get you to talk.” “I-I don’t get names. All I’m told is faces and locations. I’d tell y-you if I could but I don’t know!” John cried. “Liar!” Slater screamed. This time the punch hit John square in the jaw. He didn’t remember the chair tipping but when the room stopped spinning he was on the floor. Slater laid into him with kick after kick until each breath felt as though someone had stuffed his lungs with broken glass. “Please! I don’t know!” John whimpered. “I really d-don’t know.” Slater sat on John’s chest and pulled a small knife out of his belt. He drove the knife into his eye. John screamed in agony and thrashed against the ropes that held him to the chair. “Names! I need names or the other eye goes to!” Slater yelled. “P-please n-n-no.” John croaked. “I’ll talk. “ he took a deep breath and prayed his boss would be kind. “Sam Parks, Jason Smith, Richard O’clock and Jackson sky.” Slater got up without a word and grabbed a piece of paper with a list of names. He crossed out John Henderson and headed towards the door. “You can’t leave me here! I told you what you wanted. Let me go!” John yelled. Slater turned to look at him. “Those aren’t my friends and don’t worry I’ll leave a note so your boss can find you.” Slater walked out into the cold evening air, the sound of johns sobbing faded in the distance. He looked down at his list and scanned it until he found the next name. “I’ll find you guys, I promise. No matter how many people I have to hurt.”
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	"I good girl." Said the scruffy black cat. The orc jailer squinted down at the talking feline. He was a great green brute of an orc, and was the very last line of defense in the intricate cave system of the Western Mountain Orc Prison. The orc jailer usually delighted in having wild rats pass by his post at night, because then he could smash the rats with his club and throw their bloody bodies into the prisoner's cells and listen to the occupants scream. It was his only entertainment during the night shift. But he had never seen a cat while on duty in the caves. And he'd never even heard of a talking one before. He wondered if his brothers further up the line had let it pass to him on purpose. The cat stepped closer into the torch light and sniffed at the ground, then licked her lips. She looked like she'd been in a lot of fights in her life; her hair was missing in spots, her ears were chewed up and scarred, and she smelled like she had rolled over something dead. She was old and ugly and the orc's brothers had probably just ignored her when she'd gone by. The jailer began to slowly reach for his club, thinking of which cells he could throw her squished body into. The older prisoners were getting used to his dead rat game, but might squeal a little differently if a bigger, smellier cat was thrown at them. But those new prisoners... The ones still so full of hope and good faith... he could hardly wait to hear what kind of screams they might make. The cat watched with shining yellow eyes as the orc moved in slow motion, quietly picking up his enormous club. She could smell his intent to kill, but she stood still and poised. When the orc moved to swing his club at her, she heard the soft jingle of metal keys somewhere on his left leg. 'Keys good', thought the cat. Before the club could reach her, the old cat had morphed growing dagger sized teeth and a bear-sized head. She zipped past the orc's club and sunk her teeth into his exposed neck. The jailer couldn't even let out a scream as his windpipe was squished, like a rat against his club. The cat's body continued to morph and grow, matching the orc's weight pound for pound. She threw him to the ground and ripped off his head. His blood was hot and his meat was tainted and tough, but to the monster ripping through those muscles and bones, he tasted like sweet, sweet victory. Savagely, she tore into him, swallowing his still convulsing heart, chewing up his bones, and even licking up the blood that had sprayed across the cave walls and floor. In no time at all, she had devoured everything the orc had ever been. Except, for his untouched left leg. It had been ages since she had killed this much. Ever since she had been adopted and loved by her party in her small Sneaking form, she had held back her natural instinct to stalk, kill, and eat her enemies. She had sat back and allowed her party to complete small quests and capture minor criminals at their own pace, enjoying the love and attention that their good hearts had bestowed upon her along the way. She had even begun to believe all the little things they said to her when they scratched her scarred ears, petted her uneven fur, or fed her little fish they bought with their hard earned money. But then someone had taken them away, had sold them and imprisoned them in an orc's mountain. That person had been the first in line to go. The monster delicately picked up the orcs's leg and shook it until a ring of keys fell off. She chomped and swallowed up the last bit of orc, and then quietly made her way down the line of cells with the keys hanging from her bloody teeth. The scent of her party wafted through a barred window on a small wooden door. She stopped and dropped the keys at the base of the door and licked her muzzle. She began to shrink back into her Sneaking form and let out a curiously sweet 'mew'. There was movement behind the door, and the leader of her party came into view between the bars of the window. He was bruised and scratched up, but ecstatic to see the party's little cat. She 'mewed' happily as the leader roused the rest of the party and they began to devise a plan to reach the keys and open the cell door before the jailer could notice them. Smiling at her little party, the cat curled up in the hall to await their attempts at escape. They had all the time in the world, of course. No one was left to hurt them here. "I good girl." Purred the scruffy black cat.	John felt the pounding in his head before he had even opened his eyes. As the fog in his mind began to clear he discovered that he was unable to move. He sat upright, tightly bound to a chair in an abandoned bar. The only light in the room came from two filthy windows by the door and a lantern that hung from the ceiling. Movement caught his eye, he turned his head just in time to see a man step out from behind the bar. “Ahhhh, finally awake are we?” The man said. “Who are you?” “I’ll be the one asking the questions today and who I am will become abundantly clear soon enough.” The man walked over and stood directly in front of John. He was oddly calm with an almost amused expression and not very intimidating. John was certain if he were untied the man wouldn’t stand a chance. “For now you may call me Slater. I’m going to ask you some questions and if you know what’s good for you, you’re going to answer.” John smiled a humorless grin. “You might as well give up now, I’m sworn to secrecy by my boss. I’ll die before I tell you anything.” Before he even had time to register the fist coming toward him john’s head exploded with pain and he felt hot blood rushing from his nose. Slaters demeanor had completely changed. His eyes bore down on John with an alarming hatred. Although when he spoke his voice was just as calm as before. “I know who you are John. Your work involves taking innocent people and placing them in the position you find yourself in right now. Hostages, ransoms, assassinations. What I need from you is the names of your most recent victims.” John’s head was spinning and his mouth was filled with the coppery tang of blood. He knew he was in a bad position but he also knew what ever slater did to him couldn’t be worse then what his employer would do if he spilled information. “That information is between me and my clients. No one else, and it’s going to stay that way.” “Your making this difficult.” Slater sighed. “ let me make something very clear to you, I am not a good man. I work with a group of people who do volunteer work at orphanages and help the homeless, but I am not a good man. My friends on the other hand are the most kind hearted people I know, they absolutely love the work we do. So you might understand why I was more then upset to wake up and find them gone. So all I need is those names because I know someone took them. I have no problem doing what ever I have to to get you to talk.” “I-I don’t get names. All I’m told is faces and locations. I’d tell y-you if I could but I don’t know!” John cried. “Liar!” Slater screamed. This time the punch hit John square in the jaw. He didn’t remember the chair tipping but when the room stopped spinning he was on the floor. Slater laid into him with kick after kick until each breath felt as though someone had stuffed his lungs with broken glass. “Please! I don’t know!” John whimpered. “I really d-don’t know.” Slater sat on John’s chest and pulled a small knife out of his belt. He drove the knife into his eye. John screamed in agony and thrashed against the ropes that held him to the chair. “Names! I need names or the other eye goes to!” Slater yelled. “P-please n-n-no.” John croaked. “I’ll talk. “ he took a deep breath and prayed his boss would be kind. “Sam Parks, Jason Smith, Richard O’clock and Jackson sky.” Slater got up without a word and grabbed a piece of paper with a list of names. He crossed out John Henderson and headed towards the door. “You can’t leave me here! I told you what you wanted. Let me go!” John yelled. Slater turned to look at him. “Those aren’t my friends and don’t worry I’ll leave a note so your boss can find you.” Slater walked out into the cold evening air, the sound of johns sobbing faded in the distance. He looked down at his list and scanned it until he found the next name. “I’ll find you guys, I promise. No matter how many people I have to hurt.”
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	"Wakey wakey!" A sing-song greeting poked the first hole in the haze filling the man's head. The armchair beneath him felt strangely hard and unfortable, and his limbs didn't seem to want to move. The grogginess and discomfort after a night of drinking, he was used to. The voice rousing him, not so much. The hard slap across the face, even less so. "I said: Wake. Up." That same voice, a growl instead of a song this time. A single bleary eye opened, peering about the room, trying to find the source of the voice. Realization dawned, and adrenaline cleared away any last dregs of the waking haze. This was not his home. This was not his armchair. His hands were bound to his sides, and his body was bound to the wooden chair beneath him. The room was dingy, poorly lit, and poorly constructed. A smell of mildew and sawdust filled his nose. He struggled against his bindings, but they held fast, and him with them. "Welcome back to the land of the living. For now, at least." His eyes snapped to the voice's owner. Across from him, straddling another plain wooden chair, was someone strangely familiar. His drinking companion from the previous night. He thought he'd recognized him from somewhere, but the mead was flowing that night, and that recognition slipped away from him at the time. Now, in the cold light of... was it day? He wasn't sure, but the light filtering in between the cracks in the wall suggested it. He brushed the thought from his mind, and focused again on the man in front of him. "You?!" "So, you DO know who I am! I was worried that my reputation wasn't as far reaching as I'd thought! Well, this saves time on introductions. I know who you are, Constable, and you know who I am, which means you probably figured out why we're both here, right?" The man grinned, the smile creasing his red skin, his gold-colored eyes seeming to bore right into his captive. The bound man was silent, and just glared at his captor. "I'll take that as a yes." "I ain't sayin' shit." "Fantastic. You start talking shit, we're going to have a bigger problem than we already do. You know why we're here, so let's skip straight to the main event. Where are they?" "Dunno what you're talking about, Nox." Nox closed his eyes for a moment and inhaled as a frustrated parent does before explaining something to a particularly slow child. "Okay, so, we're doing it this way, then? Good. I was hoping we would." It was a this point that the Constable noticed the particularly nasty-looking knife dangling from Nox's fingers, and the bucket of rock salt next to him. For a split second, an expression of worry crossed his face, before he remembered who he was dealing with. &#x200B; "Please, you're a hero. Helped save a town, hanging out with a paladin and everything. I know your type. You act all brooding and dangerous, but you ain't gonna do shit to me. Just let me go now, and maybe I'll consider not running you out of town. Again." The Constable scoffed. Valyar Nox had been a trouble-maker in the past, but since he'd been run out of town, he'd fallen in with a group of self-styled heroes. Together, they'd managed to defeat a plague of undead, save a town, defeat an evil necromancer, got a commendation from the Navy, the whole nine yards. Especially rare considering Nox was a Tiefling, a fiend-spawn. &#x200B; "You seem to have some real weird ideas about me, so, let me explain a few things. Yeah, I hang with heroes. They're my allies. I like having allies. If that means having to keep my nose clean, so be it. And it turns out, doing the right thing also pays pretty well. Now, though, those allies have gone missing. Someone, I'm guessing with connections to you and your bosses, had something to do with it. See, you're not smart enough to do this on your own, but I've a feeling you can point me in the right direction," Nox lightly tapped the point of the knife into the man's chest as he spoke. "So, here's what's going to happen. When we're done here, I am going to kill you. Nothing you say or do can change that fact," Nox said, in the most matter-of-fact tone possible. "But here's the good news: You get to influence what happens until that point! See, I'm going to ask you some questions. And you're going to answer me quickly, and you're going to answer me honestly. You do that and I'm happy with your answers? I give you a swig of whiskey, and stab you right in the heart. You die quick, you die painless." Nox's voice was disturbingly cheerful as he explained all of his, his face stretching into a grin once more. The cheer drained from his face , and his voice dropped into a growl as he continued. "But if you decide to mouth off? You lie to me? Hell, if I think you're taking too long to answer, well... You'd be surprised how much skin you can lose and not go in to shock." He pressed the blade flat against the Constable's cheek, pressing gently as he dragged it across the skin, until it just began to catch at the flesh. That slight twinge of pain, and the Constable's former bravado began to waver. His eyes flicked to Nox's face. The Tiefling was still grinning, his solid yellow eyes still boring into him. Sometimes a grin is show of happiness. This one was the grin of a predator that had been caged for far too long. &#x200B; "But... you can't do this! You're supposed to be a hero! You helped save all those people!" Panic began creeping in to the Constable's voice. This had to be some sort of hoax? Just a game of psychological chicken? He couldn't possible be serious? "Only half right. I did help save all those people, yes, because my allies were helping. But I did it because I like my allies, not because I like any of you people. And now, someone has stolen those allies- no, stolen my allies from me. See, when you say a hero can't do this..." Nox leaned in much closer now, the knife's edge beginning to draw blood. His grinning mouth was just inches from his captive's ear. "You're right."	The room was thick with the smell of iron. The smell of blood. A cry of pain rings through the room. A cry of agony. "What happens when you bring light into a dark room... what was your name again? It seems it slipped my mind in the confusion." The mans calm dread voice queried. "Aaa.... aaa... Albert" came the stuttering reply between sobs, the terror audible in his voice. "Ah yes! Albert! I had a dog once name Albert ya know. Wonderful thing. He was with me for years... it was a dark day when I had to put him down. Rabies you see." The man spoke over the occasional whimpers. "Oh darkness! My apologies I due tend to ramble. What happens when you bring light to a dark room my good Albert? What happens to the darkness?" "It... it goes away?" Came Albert's hesitant answer. A fist flew the air in a blur striking Albert in the sternum. "WRONG!" The mans voice boomed with thunder. "It hides... it goes into the corners... under the chair. Under the table." He resumed in his calm soothing dread voice once more. He began to walk the tavern room as he spoke. His footing careful. He stepped around the bodies strewn about. Some slumped in chairs. Some against tables. Some pinned to pillars, ones face was buried in the hearth. Careful to avoid the pools of blood. His dark clothing and robes were spotless in stark contrast to the bloody room. Albert's whimpers of pain were quiet but present. "Darkness never leaves. It's always present" he continued with his hands behind his back. "At times light gives the illusion of consuming the dark. At times it appears to win it over. But when the light leaves there's a return of the dark. Almost as if the dark is the natural state of things. As though darkness is the way the world was meant to be. And light is the intruder." He said as he leaned over to retrieve a blade buried in one of the bodies. It resisted his pull. "Damn..." he mumbled as he put a foot on the still warm corpse. He pulled again and the dagger came free with a wet sucking sounds. He wiped the blood on the corpse and continued to walk. Occasionally stopping to retrieve blades of various sizes from corpses. "Now my good Albert. The Marry Few. If you ask me it's a trite name but well you didn't ask now did you? Think of them as the light in this situation. And think of me as the dark room. A noble band of heroes comes in and brightens things. It scatters the shadow with there good deeds. It scours the black from the room with good intent. It cleans the fog with charity and kindness. Till seemingly all is well in the room. The fire blazes at the hearth... the latterns brighten every corner. A few shadows hide yes but they are small things. Surely nothing to worry much over. "Now remove the light" and as the man spoke now he carefully walked to the light sources in the room and extinguished them. "And darkness reigns once more. It rises from its hiding and consumes greedily. The chaos and brooding returns with glee." His voice grew darker as he spoke. The room matching his voice as more light vanished. "Till soon you're left with things as they are meant to be. All is in its natural state. And my good boy Albert. I must thank you for doing this for me. For removing my brightness. For now all is dark once more. And Richard the Black strolls freely in the night." And with this Richard grabbed a pitcher of ale from a table and poured it on the fire. With a rush of steam and embers the fires last flames went out and all that was left was glowing embers. The room now devoid of all light sources was dark as pitch. Black as night. As empty as Richard's soul. Albert's sobs and whimpers increased at this turn of events. "NOW ALBERT." Richard's voice seemed to fill the room and all that was in it. Seemed to ring inside Albert's head. Seemed to come from all the corpses. Not booming with thunder as earlier. But a brooding wall of panic and terror. Like The calm embrace of death. As empty and hollow as the night. As cold and unfeeling as the fog. "WHERE HAVE YOU TAKEN MY LIGHT?" Soon. The tavern was filled with screams. Edit: spelling and grammar. Critique welcome! Very new to this!
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	After my parents died early on in my life, I wasn't the same cheerful person I always was. I started taking dangerous missions and fighting monsters I could barely beat on my own. I was aimless, without a purpose, trying to fill an endless void with mere adrenaline. It didn't work. But I was lucky, because it was at my lowest point where I found them. The void in my soul was filled, even overflowing! Five unique people, friendly, adventurous, exciting... loving. I had- correction, they had found me, and we became a tight knit family. And one day they were gone. Like they vanished out of the face of the earth, without a notice, without a word. I panicked, wondered if they left me... But I knew them, I trusted myself in what I knew about them, and I knew they wouldn't had just gone and left, without a word, without a sound. I was always my best self when around them, didn't even need to try, they were just that important to me that I wouldn't even think of anything hurtful. But they weren't here now. They were gone, something was up and they couldn't see what I was going to do to get them back. First I broke into the office of the city's leader, killed a few of his guards and interrogated him. If he knew nothing about my friends, sorry, goodbye, you never saw me. But he knew, he lied to me because he knew the people I was talking about. For each lie I cut a finger... and he lied a lot. It was too bad I had gotten used to being lied to, lying and in consequence knowing when someone was lying. After losing three of his fingers he knew I wasn't easily fooled. Then he tried to misdirect me, which also didn't work. When he finally decided it wasn't worth the pain, he let out most of what he knew. He claimed it was all, but I knew it wasn't. It didn't matter though, so I didn't comment. The five had actually gotten into a large debt before meeting me. It wasn't a simple debt either, not with how much the governor tried to cover it up. Adventuring is an expensive habit for beginners. The only reason I was able to begin a solo path in it was from my parents money in the first place. My family on the other hand had no choice but to borrow a large amount of money, for equipment, consumables, magic scrolls, etc. Their large need of money was also what led them to be more... reckless, than others. Well, it wasn't a difference from my previous activities, if anything it was safer, but it was also our first common ground. Shaking my head, I focused on the task at hand. Before they got sold off or killed for their bodies I had to get them back. Where and what would I do to get them? Well, for starters the city had to go, too hard with it in place. Thus my starting point was in an alchemist's alcove... well, former alchemist's alcove, now it was mine. Poison this, poison that... that's just stupid, just fuck up with the water and you're done. Due to not knowing if my friends would also be affected by the poison, I chose something non-lethal. Well, if everyone is on the toilet it's hard to defend against a monster rampage, isn't it? My thoughts exactly! Located near the outskirts of the city, the stronghold which was most likely holding my friends was hit first and was hit hard. Of course, I had to do a lot of work to lure a few hundred monsters to a specific part of the city, but I had dealt with worse. The gates were broken down in mere minuted without anyone to hold position and the stronghold was much the same. I continued inside what should have been my grave if I went on my own, trying to find my friends. It was hard to believe this was city sanctioned, but alas, the city needs that one more extra income source! Well, it wasn't about to continue being a source for much longer, but it still made me annoyed. Weakened people tried to fight off monsters that were in general stronger than a average adventurer. It didn't work. The city wasn't that badly affected, not many innocent individuals died, while also not many guards died. The exception was my point of focus, which barely had a door standing at the end of my stroll. The prisoners were protected in the metal cages, all weakened by my poison, but a few certain five wouldn't be for much longer. Of course, they made me share my remaining antidote with a few of the other people they made me free. This whole situation made me feel weird about myself. Would they assume I had just gone up and saved them, or would they ask? And if they asked, would I say the truth? As I stared at the beaten and rugged figures of my friends, I thought I really shouldn't had left everyone off that easily. At least I had killed off the city's leader whom seemed to be guy behind all of this. Thankfully no one was dead, I dreaded to even think of what I would had done to this poor city if that had happened... Well, to be honest, it isn't something hard to imagine. That alchemist wasn't a friendly person, I wasn't a friendly person, and when you combine the willingness of a madman with the seriousness of a scared alchemist you get really bad results.	The room was thick with the smell of iron. The smell of blood. A cry of pain rings through the room. A cry of agony. "What happens when you bring light into a dark room... what was your name again? It seems it slipped my mind in the confusion." The mans calm dread voice queried. "Aaa.... aaa... Albert" came the stuttering reply between sobs, the terror audible in his voice. "Ah yes! Albert! I had a dog once name Albert ya know. Wonderful thing. He was with me for years... it was a dark day when I had to put him down. Rabies you see." The man spoke over the occasional whimpers. "Oh darkness! My apologies I due tend to ramble. What happens when you bring light to a dark room my good Albert? What happens to the darkness?" "It... it goes away?" Came Albert's hesitant answer. A fist flew the air in a blur striking Albert in the sternum. "WRONG!" The mans voice boomed with thunder. "It hides... it goes into the corners... under the chair. Under the table." He resumed in his calm soothing dread voice once more. He began to walk the tavern room as he spoke. His footing careful. He stepped around the bodies strewn about. Some slumped in chairs. Some against tables. Some pinned to pillars, ones face was buried in the hearth. Careful to avoid the pools of blood. His dark clothing and robes were spotless in stark contrast to the bloody room. Albert's whimpers of pain were quiet but present. "Darkness never leaves. It's always present" he continued with his hands behind his back. "At times light gives the illusion of consuming the dark. At times it appears to win it over. But when the light leaves there's a return of the dark. Almost as if the dark is the natural state of things. As though darkness is the way the world was meant to be. And light is the intruder." He said as he leaned over to retrieve a blade buried in one of the bodies. It resisted his pull. "Damn..." he mumbled as he put a foot on the still warm corpse. He pulled again and the dagger came free with a wet sucking sounds. He wiped the blood on the corpse and continued to walk. Occasionally stopping to retrieve blades of various sizes from corpses. "Now my good Albert. The Marry Few. If you ask me it's a trite name but well you didn't ask now did you? Think of them as the light in this situation. And think of me as the dark room. A noble band of heroes comes in and brightens things. It scatters the shadow with there good deeds. It scours the black from the room with good intent. It cleans the fog with charity and kindness. Till seemingly all is well in the room. The fire blazes at the hearth... the latterns brighten every corner. A few shadows hide yes but they are small things. Surely nothing to worry much over. "Now remove the light" and as the man spoke now he carefully walked to the light sources in the room and extinguished them. "And darkness reigns once more. It rises from its hiding and consumes greedily. The chaos and brooding returns with glee." His voice grew darker as he spoke. The room matching his voice as more light vanished. "Till soon you're left with things as they are meant to be. All is in its natural state. And my good boy Albert. I must thank you for doing this for me. For removing my brightness. For now all is dark once more. And Richard the Black strolls freely in the night." And with this Richard grabbed a pitcher of ale from a table and poured it on the fire. With a rush of steam and embers the fires last flames went out and all that was left was glowing embers. The room now devoid of all light sources was dark as pitch. Black as night. As empty as Richard's soul. Albert's sobs and whimpers increased at this turn of events. "NOW ALBERT." Richard's voice seemed to fill the room and all that was in it. Seemed to ring inside Albert's head. Seemed to come from all the corpses. Not booming with thunder as earlier. But a brooding wall of panic and terror. Like The calm embrace of death. As empty and hollow as the night. As cold and unfeeling as the fog. "WHERE HAVE YOU TAKEN MY LIGHT?" Soon. The tavern was filled with screams. Edit: spelling and grammar. Critique welcome! Very new to this!
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	"Steel City Stalwarts, unite!" Comet Lad flew in and landed on Sergeant Static's right side. Nightshade Assassin swung down on one of her vines. Silver Cypher's armor hissed and clicked as the cooling systems compensated for the afterburners he'd used to get here. The Gray Gorrilla took the rear, his massive body throwing a shade over all of them. The team all looked ready to take on the entire force of Eric Nasty's henchman, collectively and individually. Except for one. Coming standing behind one of the Gorrilla's legs was Tigerlily, her uniform barely dusty from the fighting. She looked, as she always did, just a little like she was about to run. The Sergeant didn't seem to notice her fear. His eyes were on the tactical situation as his mind ran through strategies at lightning speed. He said, "There's no way we can find the Mayor in time as a group. We need to split up. Gray G, you clear this floor and start working up. Nightshade, you and me work our way down to the parking garage. Comet, start on the roof and meet Gray G in the middle. Cypher, hack into their cameras and find the mayor and find that bomb!" As their leader lifted Static Staff to give the call to action, Tigerlily said, "What do you need me to do boss?" Sergeant turned around and said, "Just stay here. Hold up in the courtroom over there. We'll bring the wounded to you. Heal them, then get them out. Can you handle that." The tiny lass said, "Yes sir! I won't let you down!" Sergeant Static reached out and ruffled her hair affectionately. "That's my girl. Everyone, to the rescue!" They all shouted in unison, "To the rescue!" They flew away. The Sergeant looked over his shoulder and made sure that Tigerlily made it to the courtroom where she'd wait. When they got to the door to the stairs, Nightshade Princess said, "You have to stop treating her like a kid. She's one of us. She's a superhero." Sergeant said, "She's a kid who can heal people. I'm tired of sending kids into battle, Shade." The princess of poisonous plants rolled her eyes, which contrasted with the proud smile. In the courtroom, though, Tigerlily was not smiling. Eric Nasty and fifteen of his Nastymen were standing, their weapons drawn. Eric stood over the bomb, his hands on the panel to enter the password, the last step to arming it. When he saw the white-clad healer, he drew his pistol and pointed at her. "Look what we got here! The mascot!" Tigerlily said, "You'll never defeat the Stalwarts! Just give up!" Eric stood, laughing. "Will I? And how will they defeat me, brat, without their powers?" She shook her head. "What?" Eric pointed to the bomb. "You super dummy's are all the same. I don't just mean that sickening sense of self righteousness. I mean that I figured it out. Every superhero, every one I could get a DNA sample for, you all derive your power from the same source. Would you like to know what it is? Get ready... it's aliens." The girl balled up her fists, "You're crazy." "No, I'm brilliant. I may not fly or shoot lightning or juggle sedans, but I have a power. I've got a mind sharp enough to split atoms. I also have money and I paid a lot for the remains of a very special ship recently brought up from the ocean. Atlantis was real! Aliens are real! The great pulse that turned people into superfreaks came from their technology. In a few minutes, I'm going to demosntrate all that, and unless you're wearing a countermeasure charm, like I am, say goodbye to your abilities and hello to the reign of Nasty!" Eric cackled. His men laughed and raised their blasters. And then one exploded. The room went dead. Tigerlily wasn't by the door anymore. She was standing within arms reach of where the ex-Nastyman had stood, his body now a spray of red chunks and foul smells. Eric said, "What the...?" Tigerlilly's body moved so fast that all you could see was a white blur. Her hands fell on two more. They detonated, the same way that their teammate had. She said, "No." Eric screamed, "Fire!" Tigerlily jumped as numerous bolts of light scorched the floor. She landed on the shoulders of another Nastyman. She twisted his head in a circle. Before he could fall, she leapt to another; his comrades cut him down trying to shoot her, along with the two on either side of him. Eric stopped firing. He dove for the bomb. Tigerlilly did a backflip and landed on ballet point on the top of another henchman's head. He splattered downward, his splattering like it had been dropped from the 50th floor. Tigerlilly's eyes were glass marbles, her mouth a small and straight line. She glided from soldier to soldier, each one either being ended with a quick and efficent blow or turned to vapor. Eric tapped out the password, but nerves and shaking fingers got him a "DENIED" on the screen. He tried it again. Same result. He tried to ignore the screams of his personal guard as they died all around him. "C'mon, c'mon... oh, crap that's the wrong password." He started to type in the right one, but he found he did not have a hand. He stared at the stump, weaping blood, and screamed. He looked up and saw tigerlilly, holding his hand like it was attached to an invisible crossing guard. "You don't get to speak about Atlantis," she said. "They were kind people, before the earthquake. They showed my people the first kindness we'd seen in a thousand worlds. That is, except for one. He was like you." Tigerlilly dropped the hand. Behind her, Eric could see a few corpses, but mostly he saw human sized stains. Somehow, the girl's clothes were still pristine. "He built weapons. We shared our tech at first. But then we saw what your kind might do with with it. We saw the darkness in your hearts, only too late. It sank the greatest city in your short history into the ocean. Your kind and my kind were both lost, save for a very few. We made a promise that day, one you're trying to undo." "Get away from me!" Eric shouted, trying to tie his belt around his arm stump. "For ten thousand years, I've given powers to your people. Manipulating your flesh is so easy. Eric stammered, "You... you what? But I-" "So many use them well. A few, not so much. Either way, it keeps you fighting amongst yourselves. The few of great power in an internal struggle while the rest of the world is content to wait and see what you do. "I will not see you reveal us. I will not see you try to undo ten millenia of guidance and nurturing. You, Eric, are the worst of your kind. While I will do anything it takes to see that your infant race not only remaisn thinking you're the greatest, fiercest, most dangerous creatures in the universe, but that you never advance so far that find out what really holds that title. Lucky for you that it was us, their little cousins that found you. "Now die." The doors burst open. The Sergeant and Nightshade were first. Silver Cypher flew in and said, "I knew it! This room was the only one with the cameras blocked out it had to be here!" The Sargeant yelled, "Where's Tigerlily?" A small voice said, "Here." They all turned and found her hugging her knees on the floor. Nightshade dashed, wrapping her leafy arms around the girl like a mother. "Oh T.L., did they hurt you?" The girl shook her head. "I found them like this. I think the bomb backfired." Sargeant Static said, "We should have found it faster." Cypher said, "It's okay. We all missed it." The Sargeant looked around the room. "Doesn't matter now. Let's get Tigerlilly and ourselves the hell out of here." Nightshade covered the girl's ears. "Language!" Tigerlilly giggled. "It's okay, Shade. I'm a big girl. I can take it."	The room was thick with the smell of iron. The smell of blood. A cry of pain rings through the room. A cry of agony. "What happens when you bring light into a dark room... what was your name again? It seems it slipped my mind in the confusion." The mans calm dread voice queried. "Aaa.... aaa... Albert" came the stuttering reply between sobs, the terror audible in his voice. "Ah yes! Albert! I had a dog once name Albert ya know. Wonderful thing. He was with me for years... it was a dark day when I had to put him down. Rabies you see." The man spoke over the occasional whimpers. "Oh darkness! My apologies I due tend to ramble. What happens when you bring light to a dark room my good Albert? What happens to the darkness?" "It... it goes away?" Came Albert's hesitant answer. A fist flew the air in a blur striking Albert in the sternum. "WRONG!" The mans voice boomed with thunder. "It hides... it goes into the corners... under the chair. Under the table." He resumed in his calm soothing dread voice once more. He began to walk the tavern room as he spoke. His footing careful. He stepped around the bodies strewn about. Some slumped in chairs. Some against tables. Some pinned to pillars, ones face was buried in the hearth. Careful to avoid the pools of blood. His dark clothing and robes were spotless in stark contrast to the bloody room. Albert's whimpers of pain were quiet but present. "Darkness never leaves. It's always present" he continued with his hands behind his back. "At times light gives the illusion of consuming the dark. At times it appears to win it over. But when the light leaves there's a return of the dark. Almost as if the dark is the natural state of things. As though darkness is the way the world was meant to be. And light is the intruder." He said as he leaned over to retrieve a blade buried in one of the bodies. It resisted his pull. "Damn..." he mumbled as he put a foot on the still warm corpse. He pulled again and the dagger came free with a wet sucking sounds. He wiped the blood on the corpse and continued to walk. Occasionally stopping to retrieve blades of various sizes from corpses. "Now my good Albert. The Marry Few. If you ask me it's a trite name but well you didn't ask now did you? Think of them as the light in this situation. And think of me as the dark room. A noble band of heroes comes in and brightens things. It scatters the shadow with there good deeds. It scours the black from the room with good intent. It cleans the fog with charity and kindness. Till seemingly all is well in the room. The fire blazes at the hearth... the latterns brighten every corner. A few shadows hide yes but they are small things. Surely nothing to worry much over. "Now remove the light" and as the man spoke now he carefully walked to the light sources in the room and extinguished them. "And darkness reigns once more. It rises from its hiding and consumes greedily. The chaos and brooding returns with glee." His voice grew darker as he spoke. The room matching his voice as more light vanished. "Till soon you're left with things as they are meant to be. All is in its natural state. And my good boy Albert. I must thank you for doing this for me. For removing my brightness. For now all is dark once more. And Richard the Black strolls freely in the night." And with this Richard grabbed a pitcher of ale from a table and poured it on the fire. With a rush of steam and embers the fires last flames went out and all that was left was glowing embers. The room now devoid of all light sources was dark as pitch. Black as night. As empty as Richard's soul. Albert's sobs and whimpers increased at this turn of events. "NOW ALBERT." Richard's voice seemed to fill the room and all that was in it. Seemed to ring inside Albert's head. Seemed to come from all the corpses. Not booming with thunder as earlier. But a brooding wall of panic and terror. Like The calm embrace of death. As empty and hollow as the night. As cold and unfeeling as the fog. "WHERE HAVE YOU TAKEN MY LIGHT?" Soon. The tavern was filled with screams. Edit: spelling and grammar. Critique welcome! Very new to this!
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	Drascar. Every black market, mafia, and crime syndicate on the continent can be traced back to this city, so much so that it's often called the City of Thieves. When the others went missing I knew I had to pay a visit to my old home town. Even just walking down the road through the outskirts of the town you can feel the eyes on you. Well, that may just be me. It's not every day that the famed Master of the Raging Flame, one of the world's greatest heroes, visits a city whose biggest export is crime. I'm sure by now the news of Heavenly Paladin Kranor and Beast Master Srakan going missing has reached this place, and I'm even more sure that the people behind it are in one of the mansions towards the centre of town. Or perhaps they're in a hidden compound bellow one. You can never tell with Drascar. Either way, I know that I can't just barge in alone. I have a reputation to uphold, and when I get the others back I don't want them hearing about how their dear friend burned down a city and murdered the inhabitants in a raging inferno, no matter how crime ridden it is. Something tells me Kranor would scold me about "cold blooded murder" and "we thought we were past this." Srakan would just stare, silently disapproving. I can't take that, their disappointment, so I'm going to do this right. I'll start with the children, the orphans and urchins. I know from experience that they hear much more than people think, and are willing to part with that information for a few copper coins. Throw in a good meal for them and their friends and they'll die for you. Having arrived at a small orphanage, I politely knock on the door. Kranor said it got better results than just blowing it up with a fireball, and it seems he was right, as instead of running away screaming a young woman stuck her head out. "What? We haven't missed any payments." Unusually articulate for a resident of this rotten semblance of a town. "No, ma'am, I'm sorry to bother you. I'm looking for some information, and was hoping that your charges had heard something that may help me." She looked at me warily, undoubtedly suspecting a trap or scam of some kind. "I don't think-" The sight of silver quickly changed her mind, and she opens the door quickly. I pressed the coin into her hands while brushing past her further into the orphanage. Kranor said charity was good, perhaps his god would smile upon me and give me a hint. Or maybe he'd fuck me over again, I don't put much faith in the gods. The orphans, of course, didn't want to talk to me. They were scared, I could tell because they even turned downy copper. They'd seen something, otherwise they'd have taken the coin and spent a few days on the street laying low so I didn't come after them having learned of their lies. Someone powerful had commited this crime, and they were too afraid to speak out against them, even in private. Of course, when I summoned a flame into my hand and threatened to burn them all their tongues loosened considerably. I left a few coins with them on my way out, enough to feed them for a month, so Kranor wouldn't be too angry if he found out. The mansion I got directions to from the orphans was the largest in the city. Of course it was, who other than the Lord of Drascar had the resources to kidnap two of the three members of Zeriol's Chosen? I didn't bother knocking this time. The smoldering ruins of the large double doors were blown into the entrance hall, and the guards standing before them were reduced to ash by my fury. The flames licked around me as I stormed into the mansion. Bodies fell like a fiery rain as the guards further into the house rushed towards me, and I will admit that I lost track of myself for a while, nothing but the endless roaring flame whipping around me. The gibbering Lord directed me towards the basement before being reduced to ash, and there I found myself, my flames extinguished by a sight I had never expected. Kranor, stripped of his armour, covered in wounds weeping blood. Srakan, curled up beside the remains of his great black wolf, a dagger through his chest. Neither drew breath. Kranor... Srakan... I need you! What do I do! What do I do?! I need you to guide me, I can't... I... What do I... No. I don't... They won't know any more. They can't guide me any longer, I won't feel their disapproving stares ever again... This... This is my choice. Here, now, I choose what direction my life takes. I can't follow them any further, so now I must step up and make my own choice. I could feel the flames respond to my will, wrapping around me, supporting me. In the end, only the flames will never leave me. I strode out of the sea of ashes once known as Drascar, City of Thieves. So many more must pay, so many more caused this pain, and the flames still hunger. The merchants who sold armor that could not protect Kranor, the woods whose beasts did not defend Srakan, the King who gave us this mission, the inn that did not hold them when I awoke. All of you... All of you will feed the flames of my wrath, and you shall burn until not even ashes proclaim that you once were.	The room was thick with the smell of iron. The smell of blood. A cry of pain rings through the room. A cry of agony. "What happens when you bring light into a dark room... what was your name again? It seems it slipped my mind in the confusion." The mans calm dread voice queried. "Aaa.... aaa... Albert" came the stuttering reply between sobs, the terror audible in his voice. "Ah yes! Albert! I had a dog once name Albert ya know. Wonderful thing. He was with me for years... it was a dark day when I had to put him down. Rabies you see." The man spoke over the occasional whimpers. "Oh darkness! My apologies I due tend to ramble. What happens when you bring light to a dark room my good Albert? What happens to the darkness?" "It... it goes away?" Came Albert's hesitant answer. A fist flew the air in a blur striking Albert in the sternum. "WRONG!" The mans voice boomed with thunder. "It hides... it goes into the corners... under the chair. Under the table." He resumed in his calm soothing dread voice once more. He began to walk the tavern room as he spoke. His footing careful. He stepped around the bodies strewn about. Some slumped in chairs. Some against tables. Some pinned to pillars, ones face was buried in the hearth. Careful to avoid the pools of blood. His dark clothing and robes were spotless in stark contrast to the bloody room. Albert's whimpers of pain were quiet but present. "Darkness never leaves. It's always present" he continued with his hands behind his back. "At times light gives the illusion of consuming the dark. At times it appears to win it over. But when the light leaves there's a return of the dark. Almost as if the dark is the natural state of things. As though darkness is the way the world was meant to be. And light is the intruder." He said as he leaned over to retrieve a blade buried in one of the bodies. It resisted his pull. "Damn..." he mumbled as he put a foot on the still warm corpse. He pulled again and the dagger came free with a wet sucking sounds. He wiped the blood on the corpse and continued to walk. Occasionally stopping to retrieve blades of various sizes from corpses. "Now my good Albert. The Marry Few. If you ask me it's a trite name but well you didn't ask now did you? Think of them as the light in this situation. And think of me as the dark room. A noble band of heroes comes in and brightens things. It scatters the shadow with there good deeds. It scours the black from the room with good intent. It cleans the fog with charity and kindness. Till seemingly all is well in the room. The fire blazes at the hearth... the latterns brighten every corner. A few shadows hide yes but they are small things. Surely nothing to worry much over. "Now remove the light" and as the man spoke now he carefully walked to the light sources in the room and extinguished them. "And darkness reigns once more. It rises from its hiding and consumes greedily. The chaos and brooding returns with glee." His voice grew darker as he spoke. The room matching his voice as more light vanished. "Till soon you're left with things as they are meant to be. All is in its natural state. And my good boy Albert. I must thank you for doing this for me. For removing my brightness. For now all is dark once more. And Richard the Black strolls freely in the night." And with this Richard grabbed a pitcher of ale from a table and poured it on the fire. With a rush of steam and embers the fires last flames went out and all that was left was glowing embers. The room now devoid of all light sources was dark as pitch. Black as night. As empty as Richard's soul. Albert's sobs and whimpers increased at this turn of events. "NOW ALBERT." Richard's voice seemed to fill the room and all that was in it. Seemed to ring inside Albert's head. Seemed to come from all the corpses. Not booming with thunder as earlier. But a brooding wall of panic and terror. Like The calm embrace of death. As empty and hollow as the night. As cold and unfeeling as the fog. "WHERE HAVE YOU TAKEN MY LIGHT?" Soon. The tavern was filled with screams. Edit: spelling and grammar. Critique welcome! Very new to this!
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	I am a necromancer. My party knows this. Skorndrick Gristle, the Lost, at your service. In fact, the way I've worked myself out, my spells and my fighting capabilities, I'm probably the strongest member of our party. Do any of them suspect this? No. As far as they're concerned, I'm a good person who just.... helps the dead ease into the afterlife. And if that means telling them the dead wish to help, then that's what I've done. They've even got a joke excuse for me and my enchanted shovel- it's for digging "trenches". One time I bullshitted some suspicious librarians that didn't want to loan me a necromancy book with "The dead know the truth. There is meaning behind their existence. We all die, it doesn't have to be a bad thing. They need help, and I'm here for them." Another time I told a guard I was resurrecting a dead man because he'd requested being allowed to help protect the town he'd so loved in life. That was a lie, as well. And my party believed me. Of course they did. Naturally they've had their suspicions, of course. They've even been suspicious of our Oathbreaker Paladin, but he's a paladin so he can't be that suspicious. And to help that, I've always been cautious around them. Always. I've never had a reason to make them question me, more or less. Doing bad things for the right reasons is still doing something with good intentions for the benefit of more than just yourself. I've always told myself they didn't need to see the side of me that was kicked out of the dwarven cities for my actions, that they didn't deserve to experience what those who knew me back at home did. Until now. Until that awful man took them and threatened them and hurt them and hid them away. I wasn't there with them when they need me to be. I was away, teasing bones out of the teeth of the dragon I had raised from the grave with the Oathbreaker. Each time Heskan, my dragon, consumes a living being, he becomes a little more alive, a little less skeletal, flesh and sinew regenerating into place from rotting tendrils of death magic I amplified with the Oathbreaker to bring back. We'd been recovering in the privacy of a forest grove outside of the city when it happened, and I didn't find out until the next day. I always sleep with Heskan- his ribcage has hammocks of burlap for our stuff, and it's free real estate, so why not? Some of our party jokes he's the "Bone Bus", and I'll be the first to admit that's what he's mostly for. But now that man- the general of this shit kingdom's tiny, half-assed army- has my friends. He's locked them up, lied and said they were invaders or demons or spies or whatever nonsense befit each of them in his mind. All so he could power trip over visitors. And I will not permit that. Heskan and I are outside of a three hundred year old graveyard that's housed every dead member of this city since its founding, all closely buried together to save space. That's quite a bit of fodder for me to abuse, and Heskan agrees. It won't take me long, most of the night maybe, but missing a night's worth of sleep in exchange for an undying army is well worth the cost to save my party. They're good people. And they deserve me.	The room was thick with the smell of iron. The smell of blood. A cry of pain rings through the room. A cry of agony. "What happens when you bring light into a dark room... what was your name again? It seems it slipped my mind in the confusion." The mans calm dread voice queried. "Aaa.... aaa... Albert" came the stuttering reply between sobs, the terror audible in his voice. "Ah yes! Albert! I had a dog once name Albert ya know. Wonderful thing. He was with me for years... it was a dark day when I had to put him down. Rabies you see." The man spoke over the occasional whimpers. "Oh darkness! My apologies I due tend to ramble. What happens when you bring light to a dark room my good Albert? What happens to the darkness?" "It... it goes away?" Came Albert's hesitant answer. A fist flew the air in a blur striking Albert in the sternum. "WRONG!" The mans voice boomed with thunder. "It hides... it goes into the corners... under the chair. Under the table." He resumed in his calm soothing dread voice once more. He began to walk the tavern room as he spoke. His footing careful. He stepped around the bodies strewn about. Some slumped in chairs. Some against tables. Some pinned to pillars, ones face was buried in the hearth. Careful to avoid the pools of blood. His dark clothing and robes were spotless in stark contrast to the bloody room. Albert's whimpers of pain were quiet but present. "Darkness never leaves. It's always present" he continued with his hands behind his back. "At times light gives the illusion of consuming the dark. At times it appears to win it over. But when the light leaves there's a return of the dark. Almost as if the dark is the natural state of things. As though darkness is the way the world was meant to be. And light is the intruder." He said as he leaned over to retrieve a blade buried in one of the bodies. It resisted his pull. "Damn..." he mumbled as he put a foot on the still warm corpse. He pulled again and the dagger came free with a wet sucking sounds. He wiped the blood on the corpse and continued to walk. Occasionally stopping to retrieve blades of various sizes from corpses. "Now my good Albert. The Marry Few. If you ask me it's a trite name but well you didn't ask now did you? Think of them as the light in this situation. And think of me as the dark room. A noble band of heroes comes in and brightens things. It scatters the shadow with there good deeds. It scours the black from the room with good intent. It cleans the fog with charity and kindness. Till seemingly all is well in the room. The fire blazes at the hearth... the latterns brighten every corner. A few shadows hide yes but they are small things. Surely nothing to worry much over. "Now remove the light" and as the man spoke now he carefully walked to the light sources in the room and extinguished them. "And darkness reigns once more. It rises from its hiding and consumes greedily. The chaos and brooding returns with glee." His voice grew darker as he spoke. The room matching his voice as more light vanished. "Till soon you're left with things as they are meant to be. All is in its natural state. And my good boy Albert. I must thank you for doing this for me. For removing my brightness. For now all is dark once more. And Richard the Black strolls freely in the night." And with this Richard grabbed a pitcher of ale from a table and poured it on the fire. With a rush of steam and embers the fires last flames went out and all that was left was glowing embers. The room now devoid of all light sources was dark as pitch. Black as night. As empty as Richard's soul. Albert's sobs and whimpers increased at this turn of events. "NOW ALBERT." Richard's voice seemed to fill the room and all that was in it. Seemed to ring inside Albert's head. Seemed to come from all the corpses. Not booming with thunder as earlier. But a brooding wall of panic and terror. Like The calm embrace of death. As empty and hollow as the night. As cold and unfeeling as the fog. "WHERE HAVE YOU TAKEN MY LIGHT?" Soon. The tavern was filled with screams. Edit: spelling and grammar. Critique welcome! Very new to this!
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	My party-my friends-have been missing for almost a week. We were supposed to meet up near the church and...they never showed. Lucky for me the church's priest invited me in, and allowed me to stay for the night last night. The climate had gotten cold, and our locksmith rogue kept the money safe, so I had none for an inn. It was last night I got my first clue. As I prepared to sleep, someone broke open the church door. They sounded like thugs, and as they tried to loot the donations vault, they were talking about the ransom they plan to get from the king using the princess and her esteemed guards. The princess and her guards...my friends. After a lovely chat with those fellows, I grabbed a clean set of monk's clothing from the church wardrobe; I promise to return them when I'm done, but it wouldn't do me any good to go through the town wearing bloodied rags. Sure, it'll be highly questionable seeing me dressed as a monk, but it's better than the alternative. I just need to find their friend, who hides in the sewer near the Rusty Flask, because that's who his dead friends directed me to. My arm! H-h-how did you bend it that waAAAaaaAAAugh!!!... Th-Those horns! W-w-what the hell are you-gh-gh-ghugh.... Teeth don't look like that, get away from me! Sto-AAAAAAAaaaaaugh.... Having the abilities of a demon has its advantages, but it would be nice if I could tone down the...let's just say "additional" features a little bit. At least I can hide the wings. Too much blood on me and they think I'm a vampire, which is hilarious, since vampires don't actually exist anymore. At least my friends knew that. They enjoyed having a reformed demigod on their side. Well, they think I'm a demigod, anyway. I'm not about to go and correct the only beings to ever care about me. Especially Princess Valeria. I never imagined someone of royalty could be so kind and empathetic. It's ok, Dremyoluok, its not your fault you are the way you are. Be proud of yourself for choosing your own destiny. Not every fallen angel gets a chance at redemption. Paul, Tri-Krimea, Folthum and myself, we will support you every inch of the way. You can help us protect the kingdom! That was almost 2 years ago, that they found me in that cave. I'll never forget the kindness they showed me, and the help they've rendered. It took me a few months of rehabilitation, but from then I've sworn that I won't let anyone bring harm upon my friends as long as I'm with them. No matter what. Paul the Monster-Slayer, Paladin of Thoruld, God of Righteous Might; Tri-Krimea, the elven naturalist and druid; Folthum the Wise, wielder of deep and powerful magic. They were eternally loyal to the naturally graceful and beautiful Princess Valeria; She is considered a top student at the High College of Magical Arts, having learned almost every healing spell along with many spells of both evocation and enchantment. I told them several half truths about myself, true enough to pass a Zone of Truth test, but not enough for them to know the full history of what I've done. I had truly stopped committing evil deeds only about 200 years before then, and had bound myself to that cave for almost 50 years. Truth is, I was turned into that form almost 2000 years ago, and the demonic power went straight to my head. Make of that what you will. I don't know how the bandits managed to capture them, but I know where to look now. They have a hideout a few miles north, and it only took an hour to extract the info from the bandit in the sewer. And how did he manage to also have seven friends hidden with him? At least there was enough clean water running through to get the blood off the robes. I can ditch the robes back by the church on my way out of town, before the sun rises. I won't need the rags on my mission. I'll leave an apology for the priest, and a small donation from those who no longer need their money. My friends...I can pick up their scents now. I've found the encampment. I hope they can forgive me for what will happen to these bandits...I should be able to get through the 30 bandits patrolling the perimeter before the rest notice the missing patrols. Who would've guessed only a few miles north of town, there was a bandit camp the size of a small city? Almost as many bandits as 3 villages worth of people. I think I might be about to knock out two birds with one stone here...save my friends, and solve the kingdom's bandit problem for a while...	The room was thick with the smell of iron. The smell of blood. A cry of pain rings through the room. A cry of agony. "What happens when you bring light into a dark room... what was your name again? It seems it slipped my mind in the confusion." The mans calm dread voice queried. "Aaa.... aaa... Albert" came the stuttering reply between sobs, the terror audible in his voice. "Ah yes! Albert! I had a dog once name Albert ya know. Wonderful thing. He was with me for years... it was a dark day when I had to put him down. Rabies you see." The man spoke over the occasional whimpers. "Oh darkness! My apologies I due tend to ramble. What happens when you bring light to a dark room my good Albert? What happens to the darkness?" "It... it goes away?" Came Albert's hesitant answer. A fist flew the air in a blur striking Albert in the sternum. "WRONG!" The mans voice boomed with thunder. "It hides... it goes into the corners... under the chair. Under the table." He resumed in his calm soothing dread voice once more. He began to walk the tavern room as he spoke. His footing careful. He stepped around the bodies strewn about. Some slumped in chairs. Some against tables. Some pinned to pillars, ones face was buried in the hearth. Careful to avoid the pools of blood. His dark clothing and robes were spotless in stark contrast to the bloody room. Albert's whimpers of pain were quiet but present. "Darkness never leaves. It's always present" he continued with his hands behind his back. "At times light gives the illusion of consuming the dark. At times it appears to win it over. But when the light leaves there's a return of the dark. Almost as if the dark is the natural state of things. As though darkness is the way the world was meant to be. And light is the intruder." He said as he leaned over to retrieve a blade buried in one of the bodies. It resisted his pull. "Damn..." he mumbled as he put a foot on the still warm corpse. He pulled again and the dagger came free with a wet sucking sounds. He wiped the blood on the corpse and continued to walk. Occasionally stopping to retrieve blades of various sizes from corpses. "Now my good Albert. The Marry Few. If you ask me it's a trite name but well you didn't ask now did you? Think of them as the light in this situation. And think of me as the dark room. A noble band of heroes comes in and brightens things. It scatters the shadow with there good deeds. It scours the black from the room with good intent. It cleans the fog with charity and kindness. Till seemingly all is well in the room. The fire blazes at the hearth... the latterns brighten every corner. A few shadows hide yes but they are small things. Surely nothing to worry much over. "Now remove the light" and as the man spoke now he carefully walked to the light sources in the room and extinguished them. "And darkness reigns once more. It rises from its hiding and consumes greedily. The chaos and brooding returns with glee." His voice grew darker as he spoke. The room matching his voice as more light vanished. "Till soon you're left with things as they are meant to be. All is in its natural state. And my good boy Albert. I must thank you for doing this for me. For removing my brightness. For now all is dark once more. And Richard the Black strolls freely in the night." And with this Richard grabbed a pitcher of ale from a table and poured it on the fire. With a rush of steam and embers the fires last flames went out and all that was left was glowing embers. The room now devoid of all light sources was dark as pitch. Black as night. As empty as Richard's soul. Albert's sobs and whimpers increased at this turn of events. "NOW ALBERT." Richard's voice seemed to fill the room and all that was in it. Seemed to ring inside Albert's head. Seemed to come from all the corpses. Not booming with thunder as earlier. But a brooding wall of panic and terror. Like The calm embrace of death. As empty and hollow as the night. As cold and unfeeling as the fog. "WHERE HAVE YOU TAKEN MY LIGHT?" Soon. The tavern was filled with screams. Edit: spelling and grammar. Critique welcome! Very new to this!
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	Help those in need. Protect the innocent. No one is beyond redemption. These are the rules I’ve lived by since joining up with The Good Guys, the name we gave ourselves when we set out to free the hamlets from the grips of a tyrant. My only friends. Eve was the one who brought me in to the group. A court jester turned vigilante, who kept her blade nearly as sharp as her tongue. She taught me that no one was beyond redemption. They would have been well within their rights to hang me for stealing the blade of morning from them. But with my back against a wall and sword at my throat she’s the one who plead my case. They needed a thief to steal it back, and I was the only one they knew. Marx disagreed. I’d spent a lifetime stealing and killing to get by. He believed, no he knew, those people deserved justice. He was right of course, I knew it then as well I know it now. It took months for him to trust me. Never letting me out of his sight less I hurt the innocents he swore to protect. I couldn’t believe my eyes as this man, who seemed more of a giant to me, was beaten down and captured by the mad kings men. Michael was the deciding vote. A warrior priest, who should have seen monster when he looked at me, but saw a broken man in need. He helped me more than he’ll ever know. He saved my life a dozen times over. I just hope I’m up to the task of returning the favor. Help those in need. Protect the innocent. No one is beyond redemption. These are the rules I’ve lived by since I met my friends. But they’ve all been taken, either prisoners or dead by King Matthew’s hand. And before I die I’ll see to it the mad king know why a good man doesn’t need rules.	The room was thick with the smell of iron. The smell of blood. A cry of pain rings through the room. A cry of agony. "What happens when you bring light into a dark room... what was your name again? It seems it slipped my mind in the confusion." The mans calm dread voice queried. "Aaa.... aaa... Albert" came the stuttering reply between sobs, the terror audible in his voice. "Ah yes! Albert! I had a dog once name Albert ya know. Wonderful thing. He was with me for years... it was a dark day when I had to put him down. Rabies you see." The man spoke over the occasional whimpers. "Oh darkness! My apologies I due tend to ramble. What happens when you bring light to a dark room my good Albert? What happens to the darkness?" "It... it goes away?" Came Albert's hesitant answer. A fist flew the air in a blur striking Albert in the sternum. "WRONG!" The mans voice boomed with thunder. "It hides... it goes into the corners... under the chair. Under the table." He resumed in his calm soothing dread voice once more. He began to walk the tavern room as he spoke. His footing careful. He stepped around the bodies strewn about. Some slumped in chairs. Some against tables. Some pinned to pillars, ones face was buried in the hearth. Careful to avoid the pools of blood. His dark clothing and robes were spotless in stark contrast to the bloody room. Albert's whimpers of pain were quiet but present. "Darkness never leaves. It's always present" he continued with his hands behind his back. "At times light gives the illusion of consuming the dark. At times it appears to win it over. But when the light leaves there's a return of the dark. Almost as if the dark is the natural state of things. As though darkness is the way the world was meant to be. And light is the intruder." He said as he leaned over to retrieve a blade buried in one of the bodies. It resisted his pull. "Damn..." he mumbled as he put a foot on the still warm corpse. He pulled again and the dagger came free with a wet sucking sounds. He wiped the blood on the corpse and continued to walk. Occasionally stopping to retrieve blades of various sizes from corpses. "Now my good Albert. The Marry Few. If you ask me it's a trite name but well you didn't ask now did you? Think of them as the light in this situation. And think of me as the dark room. A noble band of heroes comes in and brightens things. It scatters the shadow with there good deeds. It scours the black from the room with good intent. It cleans the fog with charity and kindness. Till seemingly all is well in the room. The fire blazes at the hearth... the latterns brighten every corner. A few shadows hide yes but they are small things. Surely nothing to worry much over. "Now remove the light" and as the man spoke now he carefully walked to the light sources in the room and extinguished them. "And darkness reigns once more. It rises from its hiding and consumes greedily. The chaos and brooding returns with glee." His voice grew darker as he spoke. The room matching his voice as more light vanished. "Till soon you're left with things as they are meant to be. All is in its natural state. And my good boy Albert. I must thank you for doing this for me. For removing my brightness. For now all is dark once more. And Richard the Black strolls freely in the night." And with this Richard grabbed a pitcher of ale from a table and poured it on the fire. With a rush of steam and embers the fires last flames went out and all that was left was glowing embers. The room now devoid of all light sources was dark as pitch. Black as night. As empty as Richard's soul. Albert's sobs and whimpers increased at this turn of events. "NOW ALBERT." Richard's voice seemed to fill the room and all that was in it. Seemed to ring inside Albert's head. Seemed to come from all the corpses. Not booming with thunder as earlier. But a brooding wall of panic and terror. Like The calm embrace of death. As empty and hollow as the night. As cold and unfeeling as the fog. "WHERE HAVE YOU TAKEN MY LIGHT?" Soon. The tavern was filled with screams. Edit: spelling and grammar. Critique welcome! Very new to this!
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	"I good girl." Said the scruffy black cat. The orc jailer squinted down at the talking feline. He was a great green brute of an orc, and was the very last line of defense in the intricate cave system of the Western Mountain Orc Prison. The orc jailer usually delighted in having wild rats pass by his post at night, because then he could smash the rats with his club and throw their bloody bodies into the prisoner's cells and listen to the occupants scream. It was his only entertainment during the night shift. But he had never seen a cat while on duty in the caves. And he'd never even heard of a talking one before. He wondered if his brothers further up the line had let it pass to him on purpose. The cat stepped closer into the torch light and sniffed at the ground, then licked her lips. She looked like she'd been in a lot of fights in her life; her hair was missing in spots, her ears were chewed up and scarred, and she smelled like she had rolled over something dead. She was old and ugly and the orc's brothers had probably just ignored her when she'd gone by. The jailer began to slowly reach for his club, thinking of which cells he could throw her squished body into. The older prisoners were getting used to his dead rat game, but might squeal a little differently if a bigger, smellier cat was thrown at them. But those new prisoners... The ones still so full of hope and good faith... he could hardly wait to hear what kind of screams they might make. The cat watched with shining yellow eyes as the orc moved in slow motion, quietly picking up his enormous club. She could smell his intent to kill, but she stood still and poised. When the orc moved to swing his club at her, she heard the soft jingle of metal keys somewhere on his left leg. 'Keys good', thought the cat. Before the club could reach her, the old cat had morphed growing dagger sized teeth and a bear-sized head. She zipped past the orc's club and sunk her teeth into his exposed neck. The jailer couldn't even let out a scream as his windpipe was squished, like a rat against his club. The cat's body continued to morph and grow, matching the orc's weight pound for pound. She threw him to the ground and ripped off his head. His blood was hot and his meat was tainted and tough, but to the monster ripping through those muscles and bones, he tasted like sweet, sweet victory. Savagely, she tore into him, swallowing his still convulsing heart, chewing up his bones, and even licking up the blood that had sprayed across the cave walls and floor. In no time at all, she had devoured everything the orc had ever been. Except, for his untouched left leg. It had been ages since she had killed this much. Ever since she had been adopted and loved by her party in her small Sneaking form, she had held back her natural instinct to stalk, kill, and eat her enemies. She had sat back and allowed her party to complete small quests and capture minor criminals at their own pace, enjoying the love and attention that their good hearts had bestowed upon her along the way. She had even begun to believe all the little things they said to her when they scratched her scarred ears, petted her uneven fur, or fed her little fish they bought with their hard earned money. But then someone had taken them away, had sold them and imprisoned them in an orc's mountain. That person had been the first in line to go. The monster delicately picked up the orcs's leg and shook it until a ring of keys fell off. She chomped and swallowed up the last bit of orc, and then quietly made her way down the line of cells with the keys hanging from her bloody teeth. The scent of her party wafted through a barred window on a small wooden door. She stopped and dropped the keys at the base of the door and licked her muzzle. She began to shrink back into her Sneaking form and let out a curiously sweet 'mew'. There was movement behind the door, and the leader of her party came into view between the bars of the window. He was bruised and scratched up, but ecstatic to see the party's little cat. She 'mewed' happily as the leader roused the rest of the party and they began to devise a plan to reach the keys and open the cell door before the jailer could notice them. Smiling at her little party, the cat curled up in the hall to await their attempts at escape. They had all the time in the world, of course. No one was left to hurt them here. "I good girl." Purred the scruffy black cat.	The room was thick with the smell of iron. The smell of blood. A cry of pain rings through the room. A cry of agony. "What happens when you bring light into a dark room... what was your name again? It seems it slipped my mind in the confusion." The mans calm dread voice queried. "Aaa.... aaa... Albert" came the stuttering reply between sobs, the terror audible in his voice. "Ah yes! Albert! I had a dog once name Albert ya know. Wonderful thing. He was with me for years... it was a dark day when I had to put him down. Rabies you see." The man spoke over the occasional whimpers. "Oh darkness! My apologies I due tend to ramble. What happens when you bring light to a dark room my good Albert? What happens to the darkness?" "It... it goes away?" Came Albert's hesitant answer. A fist flew the air in a blur striking Albert in the sternum. "WRONG!" The mans voice boomed with thunder. "It hides... it goes into the corners... under the chair. Under the table." He resumed in his calm soothing dread voice once more. He began to walk the tavern room as he spoke. His footing careful. He stepped around the bodies strewn about. Some slumped in chairs. Some against tables. Some pinned to pillars, ones face was buried in the hearth. Careful to avoid the pools of blood. His dark clothing and robes were spotless in stark contrast to the bloody room. Albert's whimpers of pain were quiet but present. "Darkness never leaves. It's always present" he continued with his hands behind his back. "At times light gives the illusion of consuming the dark. At times it appears to win it over. But when the light leaves there's a return of the dark. Almost as if the dark is the natural state of things. As though darkness is the way the world was meant to be. And light is the intruder." He said as he leaned over to retrieve a blade buried in one of the bodies. It resisted his pull. "Damn..." he mumbled as he put a foot on the still warm corpse. He pulled again and the dagger came free with a wet sucking sounds. He wiped the blood on the corpse and continued to walk. Occasionally stopping to retrieve blades of various sizes from corpses. "Now my good Albert. The Marry Few. If you ask me it's a trite name but well you didn't ask now did you? Think of them as the light in this situation. And think of me as the dark room. A noble band of heroes comes in and brightens things. It scatters the shadow with there good deeds. It scours the black from the room with good intent. It cleans the fog with charity and kindness. Till seemingly all is well in the room. The fire blazes at the hearth... the latterns brighten every corner. A few shadows hide yes but they are small things. Surely nothing to worry much over. "Now remove the light" and as the man spoke now he carefully walked to the light sources in the room and extinguished them. "And darkness reigns once more. It rises from its hiding and consumes greedily. The chaos and brooding returns with glee." His voice grew darker as he spoke. The room matching his voice as more light vanished. "Till soon you're left with things as they are meant to be. All is in its natural state. And my good boy Albert. I must thank you for doing this for me. For removing my brightness. For now all is dark once more. And Richard the Black strolls freely in the night." And with this Richard grabbed a pitcher of ale from a table and poured it on the fire. With a rush of steam and embers the fires last flames went out and all that was left was glowing embers. The room now devoid of all light sources was dark as pitch. Black as night. As empty as Richard's soul. Albert's sobs and whimpers increased at this turn of events. "NOW ALBERT." Richard's voice seemed to fill the room and all that was in it. Seemed to ring inside Albert's head. Seemed to come from all the corpses. Not booming with thunder as earlier. But a brooding wall of panic and terror. Like The calm embrace of death. As empty and hollow as the night. As cold and unfeeling as the fog. "WHERE HAVE YOU TAKEN MY LIGHT?" Soon. The tavern was filled with screams. Edit: spelling and grammar. Critique welcome! Very new to this!
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	After my parents died early on in my life, I wasn't the same cheerful person I always was. I started taking dangerous missions and fighting monsters I could barely beat on my own. I was aimless, without a purpose, trying to fill an endless void with mere adrenaline. It didn't work. But I was lucky, because it was at my lowest point where I found them. The void in my soul was filled, even overflowing! Five unique people, friendly, adventurous, exciting... loving. I had- correction, they had found me, and we became a tight knit family. And one day they were gone. Like they vanished out of the face of the earth, without a notice, without a word. I panicked, wondered if they left me... But I knew them, I trusted myself in what I knew about them, and I knew they wouldn't had just gone and left, without a word, without a sound. I was always my best self when around them, didn't even need to try, they were just that important to me that I wouldn't even think of anything hurtful. But they weren't here now. They were gone, something was up and they couldn't see what I was going to do to get them back. First I broke into the office of the city's leader, killed a few of his guards and interrogated him. If he knew nothing about my friends, sorry, goodbye, you never saw me. But he knew, he lied to me because he knew the people I was talking about. For each lie I cut a finger... and he lied a lot. It was too bad I had gotten used to being lied to, lying and in consequence knowing when someone was lying. After losing three of his fingers he knew I wasn't easily fooled. Then he tried to misdirect me, which also didn't work. When he finally decided it wasn't worth the pain, he let out most of what he knew. He claimed it was all, but I knew it wasn't. It didn't matter though, so I didn't comment. The five had actually gotten into a large debt before meeting me. It wasn't a simple debt either, not with how much the governor tried to cover it up. Adventuring is an expensive habit for beginners. The only reason I was able to begin a solo path in it was from my parents money in the first place. My family on the other hand had no choice but to borrow a large amount of money, for equipment, consumables, magic scrolls, etc. Their large need of money was also what led them to be more... reckless, than others. Well, it wasn't a difference from my previous activities, if anything it was safer, but it was also our first common ground. Shaking my head, I focused on the task at hand. Before they got sold off or killed for their bodies I had to get them back. Where and what would I do to get them? Well, for starters the city had to go, too hard with it in place. Thus my starting point was in an alchemist's alcove... well, former alchemist's alcove, now it was mine. Poison this, poison that... that's just stupid, just fuck up with the water and you're done. Due to not knowing if my friends would also be affected by the poison, I chose something non-lethal. Well, if everyone is on the toilet it's hard to defend against a monster rampage, isn't it? My thoughts exactly! Located near the outskirts of the city, the stronghold which was most likely holding my friends was hit first and was hit hard. Of course, I had to do a lot of work to lure a few hundred monsters to a specific part of the city, but I had dealt with worse. The gates were broken down in mere minuted without anyone to hold position and the stronghold was much the same. I continued inside what should have been my grave if I went on my own, trying to find my friends. It was hard to believe this was city sanctioned, but alas, the city needs that one more extra income source! Well, it wasn't about to continue being a source for much longer, but it still made me annoyed. Weakened people tried to fight off monsters that were in general stronger than a average adventurer. It didn't work. The city wasn't that badly affected, not many innocent individuals died, while also not many guards died. The exception was my point of focus, which barely had a door standing at the end of my stroll. The prisoners were protected in the metal cages, all weakened by my poison, but a few certain five wouldn't be for much longer. Of course, they made me share my remaining antidote with a few of the other people they made me free. This whole situation made me feel weird about myself. Would they assume I had just gone up and saved them, or would they ask? And if they asked, would I say the truth? As I stared at the beaten and rugged figures of my friends, I thought I really shouldn't had left everyone off that easily. At least I had killed off the city's leader whom seemed to be guy behind all of this. Thankfully no one was dead, I dreaded to even think of what I would had done to this poor city if that had happened... Well, to be honest, it isn't something hard to imagine. That alchemist wasn't a friendly person, I wasn't a friendly person, and when you combine the willingness of a madman with the seriousness of a scared alchemist you get really bad results.	I woke to the sound of footsteps. First thing I noticed was that it was pitch dark. Second thing I noticed was that I had a killer hangover. How much did I end up drinking last night? Let’s see… We got paid, we went for drinks at Art’s, Wes tried to flirt with the waitress, cap had a spat with Artie and... we got kicked out? Did I get arrested? Shit. A splash of icy water shocked me into motion. What the hells? I heard groaning and shuffling around me. “Who’s the asshole throwing the water around?” yelled someone to my left. “Ciara, is that you? Where the hells are we?” I said. Or tried to say, it came out more like a croak. “Park, is that you?” “What the-” A chorus of confused and just-awoken voices erupted around me. “Are we all in here?” “What in the 7th hell happened last night?” An unexpected voice chimed in from the darkness. “Hi everyone, you were brought in for questioning for the events of last week. If I can jog your memory, you were hired to spring a night-time ambush on the Traveler's House, outside of Sunset Gate.” I didn’t know who the stranger was, but the accent sounded a little western. Must be a boy from the provinces. “Quit blabbing and speak to the Captain of the Guard. We’re supposed to have an understanding,” said cap. “Oh, no. This isn’t an arrest or police action. You were involved in the abduction of some people I know and I want some answers,” The stranger replied. This guy was way too cheerful. Creepily so. “Is this some goddamn revenge fantasy? Are you actually serious right now?,” Cap let out a short laugh. “This only ends one way, kid. The Lady is gonna put you in multiple barrels and sink them to the bottom of the ocean. Cut your losses and let us go.” “Maybe. But I feel like I owe them something. I was going to leave the city and never turn back, but I think I really miss them, you know? For the first time in my life, I felt like I belonged somewhere. This is kind of a detour but... “ He trailed off. “Anyways, that’s why you’re here. I want answers and you have them.” “Nothing you can do is gonna be worse than what’s in stock for us if we talk. Try your best,” said Ciara. She always was the brave one. “I will,” said the stranger. A lantern flickered on, bringing the room into view. Over a dozen of us were sprawled out in a cell. The lantern made it difficult to see, but it looked like there was just a lone silhouette. One guy, seriously? There’s no way that just one guy could lock us up in here, was there? “Couple of questions. First, what happened to members of the Righteous Spear, Gil Guiseppe, Kaara, Flem, and Issac? Second, what is their condition? Third, where are they? And finally, who is the responsible party? Guessing this ‘Lady’ had something to do with the whole ordeal, but I’m gonna need a little more.” “Why don’t you come in and find out?” said Mort, leering. The stranger set down the lamp, and stepped to the side. Light-medium build, relatively short. Didn’t seem to be armed at all. He could definitely be mobbed if we got the drop on him. “I mean, I was seeing if I could avoid the whole interrogation thing,” The stranger shrugged. “Let’s start with a grizzled veteran who’s too dumb to spill the beans“ The stranger snapped his fingers and Mort disappeared. He reappeared on the other side of the bars, new silvery bindings appearing at his wrists and ankles. A sorcerer that could teleport people. Shit, everything got a lot more complicated. Before I could react, the stranger pulled out a dagger and rammed it into his eye. “You-you fucking psycho! I thought you were involved in a heroic party!” shouted Wes. I looked around, and everyone seemed to be in the process of realising no one was gonna get out of this alive. Stepping over Mort’s twitching body, he approached the cell again. “Emphasis on party. I’m just some miscreant they took under the wing.” The stranger pulled out another knife. “Who’s ready for round 2?” ---- 10 bodies later, the first person spoke up. 13 bodies later, a second person corroborated their story. 15 bodies later, there was no one left alive in the cell. The stranger poured some oil jugs into the cell, sparked a flame with his finger, and walked out of the basement. Checking himself for bloodstains, he walked back to the city. Whistling, he thought that this must be what righteousness felt like.
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	"Steel City Stalwarts, unite!" Comet Lad flew in and landed on Sergeant Static's right side. Nightshade Assassin swung down on one of her vines. Silver Cypher's armor hissed and clicked as the cooling systems compensated for the afterburners he'd used to get here. The Gray Gorrilla took the rear, his massive body throwing a shade over all of them. The team all looked ready to take on the entire force of Eric Nasty's henchman, collectively and individually. Except for one. Coming standing behind one of the Gorrilla's legs was Tigerlily, her uniform barely dusty from the fighting. She looked, as she always did, just a little like she was about to run. The Sergeant didn't seem to notice her fear. His eyes were on the tactical situation as his mind ran through strategies at lightning speed. He said, "There's no way we can find the Mayor in time as a group. We need to split up. Gray G, you clear this floor and start working up. Nightshade, you and me work our way down to the parking garage. Comet, start on the roof and meet Gray G in the middle. Cypher, hack into their cameras and find the mayor and find that bomb!" As their leader lifted Static Staff to give the call to action, Tigerlily said, "What do you need me to do boss?" Sergeant turned around and said, "Just stay here. Hold up in the courtroom over there. We'll bring the wounded to you. Heal them, then get them out. Can you handle that." The tiny lass said, "Yes sir! I won't let you down!" Sergeant Static reached out and ruffled her hair affectionately. "That's my girl. Everyone, to the rescue!" They all shouted in unison, "To the rescue!" They flew away. The Sergeant looked over his shoulder and made sure that Tigerlily made it to the courtroom where she'd wait. When they got to the door to the stairs, Nightshade Princess said, "You have to stop treating her like a kid. She's one of us. She's a superhero." Sergeant said, "She's a kid who can heal people. I'm tired of sending kids into battle, Shade." The princess of poisonous plants rolled her eyes, which contrasted with the proud smile. In the courtroom, though, Tigerlily was not smiling. Eric Nasty and fifteen of his Nastymen were standing, their weapons drawn. Eric stood over the bomb, his hands on the panel to enter the password, the last step to arming it. When he saw the white-clad healer, he drew his pistol and pointed at her. "Look what we got here! The mascot!" Tigerlily said, "You'll never defeat the Stalwarts! Just give up!" Eric stood, laughing. "Will I? And how will they defeat me, brat, without their powers?" She shook her head. "What?" Eric pointed to the bomb. "You super dummy's are all the same. I don't just mean that sickening sense of self righteousness. I mean that I figured it out. Every superhero, every one I could get a DNA sample for, you all derive your power from the same source. Would you like to know what it is? Get ready... it's aliens." The girl balled up her fists, "You're crazy." "No, I'm brilliant. I may not fly or shoot lightning or juggle sedans, but I have a power. I've got a mind sharp enough to split atoms. I also have money and I paid a lot for the remains of a very special ship recently brought up from the ocean. Atlantis was real! Aliens are real! The great pulse that turned people into superfreaks came from their technology. In a few minutes, I'm going to demosntrate all that, and unless you're wearing a countermeasure charm, like I am, say goodbye to your abilities and hello to the reign of Nasty!" Eric cackled. His men laughed and raised their blasters. And then one exploded. The room went dead. Tigerlily wasn't by the door anymore. She was standing within arms reach of where the ex-Nastyman had stood, his body now a spray of red chunks and foul smells. Eric said, "What the...?" Tigerlilly's body moved so fast that all you could see was a white blur. Her hands fell on two more. They detonated, the same way that their teammate had. She said, "No." Eric screamed, "Fire!" Tigerlily jumped as numerous bolts of light scorched the floor. She landed on the shoulders of another Nastyman. She twisted his head in a circle. Before he could fall, she leapt to another; his comrades cut him down trying to shoot her, along with the two on either side of him. Eric stopped firing. He dove for the bomb. Tigerlilly did a backflip and landed on ballet point on the top of another henchman's head. He splattered downward, his splattering like it had been dropped from the 50th floor. Tigerlilly's eyes were glass marbles, her mouth a small and straight line. She glided from soldier to soldier, each one either being ended with a quick and efficent blow or turned to vapor. Eric tapped out the password, but nerves and shaking fingers got him a "DENIED" on the screen. He tried it again. Same result. He tried to ignore the screams of his personal guard as they died all around him. "C'mon, c'mon... oh, crap that's the wrong password." He started to type in the right one, but he found he did not have a hand. He stared at the stump, weaping blood, and screamed. He looked up and saw tigerlilly, holding his hand like it was attached to an invisible crossing guard. "You don't get to speak about Atlantis," she said. "They were kind people, before the earthquake. They showed my people the first kindness we'd seen in a thousand worlds. That is, except for one. He was like you." Tigerlilly dropped the hand. Behind her, Eric could see a few corpses, but mostly he saw human sized stains. Somehow, the girl's clothes were still pristine. "He built weapons. We shared our tech at first. But then we saw what your kind might do with with it. We saw the darkness in your hearts, only too late. It sank the greatest city in your short history into the ocean. Your kind and my kind were both lost, save for a very few. We made a promise that day, one you're trying to undo." "Get away from me!" Eric shouted, trying to tie his belt around his arm stump. "For ten thousand years, I've given powers to your people. Manipulating your flesh is so easy. Eric stammered, "You... you what? But I-" "So many use them well. A few, not so much. Either way, it keeps you fighting amongst yourselves. The few of great power in an internal struggle while the rest of the world is content to wait and see what you do. "I will not see you reveal us. I will not see you try to undo ten millenia of guidance and nurturing. You, Eric, are the worst of your kind. While I will do anything it takes to see that your infant race not only remaisn thinking you're the greatest, fiercest, most dangerous creatures in the universe, but that you never advance so far that find out what really holds that title. Lucky for you that it was us, their little cousins that found you. "Now die." The doors burst open. The Sergeant and Nightshade were first. Silver Cypher flew in and said, "I knew it! This room was the only one with the cameras blocked out it had to be here!" The Sargeant yelled, "Where's Tigerlily?" A small voice said, "Here." They all turned and found her hugging her knees on the floor. Nightshade dashed, wrapping her leafy arms around the girl like a mother. "Oh T.L., did they hurt you?" The girl shook her head. "I found them like this. I think the bomb backfired." Sargeant Static said, "We should have found it faster." Cypher said, "It's okay. We all missed it." The Sargeant looked around the room. "Doesn't matter now. Let's get Tigerlilly and ourselves the hell out of here." Nightshade covered the girl's ears. "Language!" Tigerlilly giggled. "It's okay, Shade. I'm a big girl. I can take it."	I woke to the sound of footsteps. First thing I noticed was that it was pitch dark. Second thing I noticed was that I had a killer hangover. How much did I end up drinking last night? Let’s see… We got paid, we went for drinks at Art’s, Wes tried to flirt with the waitress, cap had a spat with Artie and... we got kicked out? Did I get arrested? Shit. A splash of icy water shocked me into motion. What the hells? I heard groaning and shuffling around me. “Who’s the asshole throwing the water around?” yelled someone to my left. “Ciara, is that you? Where the hells are we?” I said. Or tried to say, it came out more like a croak. “Park, is that you?” “What the-” A chorus of confused and just-awoken voices erupted around me. “Are we all in here?” “What in the 7th hell happened last night?” An unexpected voice chimed in from the darkness. “Hi everyone, you were brought in for questioning for the events of last week. If I can jog your memory, you were hired to spring a night-time ambush on the Traveler's House, outside of Sunset Gate.” I didn’t know who the stranger was, but the accent sounded a little western. Must be a boy from the provinces. “Quit blabbing and speak to the Captain of the Guard. We’re supposed to have an understanding,” said cap. “Oh, no. This isn’t an arrest or police action. You were involved in the abduction of some people I know and I want some answers,” The stranger replied. This guy was way too cheerful. Creepily so. “Is this some goddamn revenge fantasy? Are you actually serious right now?,” Cap let out a short laugh. “This only ends one way, kid. The Lady is gonna put you in multiple barrels and sink them to the bottom of the ocean. Cut your losses and let us go.” “Maybe. But I feel like I owe them something. I was going to leave the city and never turn back, but I think I really miss them, you know? For the first time in my life, I felt like I belonged somewhere. This is kind of a detour but... “ He trailed off. “Anyways, that’s why you’re here. I want answers and you have them.” “Nothing you can do is gonna be worse than what’s in stock for us if we talk. Try your best,” said Ciara. She always was the brave one. “I will,” said the stranger. A lantern flickered on, bringing the room into view. Over a dozen of us were sprawled out in a cell. The lantern made it difficult to see, but it looked like there was just a lone silhouette. One guy, seriously? There’s no way that just one guy could lock us up in here, was there? “Couple of questions. First, what happened to members of the Righteous Spear, Gil Guiseppe, Kaara, Flem, and Issac? Second, what is their condition? Third, where are they? And finally, who is the responsible party? Guessing this ‘Lady’ had something to do with the whole ordeal, but I’m gonna need a little more.” “Why don’t you come in and find out?” said Mort, leering. The stranger set down the lamp, and stepped to the side. Light-medium build, relatively short. Didn’t seem to be armed at all. He could definitely be mobbed if we got the drop on him. “I mean, I was seeing if I could avoid the whole interrogation thing,” The stranger shrugged. “Let’s start with a grizzled veteran who’s too dumb to spill the beans“ The stranger snapped his fingers and Mort disappeared. He reappeared on the other side of the bars, new silvery bindings appearing at his wrists and ankles. A sorcerer that could teleport people. Shit, everything got a lot more complicated. Before I could react, the stranger pulled out a dagger and rammed it into his eye. “You-you fucking psycho! I thought you were involved in a heroic party!” shouted Wes. I looked around, and everyone seemed to be in the process of realising no one was gonna get out of this alive. Stepping over Mort’s twitching body, he approached the cell again. “Emphasis on party. I’m just some miscreant they took under the wing.” The stranger pulled out another knife. “Who’s ready for round 2?” ---- 10 bodies later, the first person spoke up. 13 bodies later, a second person corroborated their story. 15 bodies later, there was no one left alive in the cell. The stranger poured some oil jugs into the cell, sparked a flame with his finger, and walked out of the basement. Checking himself for bloodstains, he walked back to the city. Whistling, he thought that this must be what righteousness felt like.
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	I am a necromancer. My party knows this. Skorndrick Gristle, the Lost, at your service. In fact, the way I've worked myself out, my spells and my fighting capabilities, I'm probably the strongest member of our party. Do any of them suspect this? No. As far as they're concerned, I'm a good person who just.... helps the dead ease into the afterlife. And if that means telling them the dead wish to help, then that's what I've done. They've even got a joke excuse for me and my enchanted shovel- it's for digging "trenches". One time I bullshitted some suspicious librarians that didn't want to loan me a necromancy book with "The dead know the truth. There is meaning behind their existence. We all die, it doesn't have to be a bad thing. They need help, and I'm here for them." Another time I told a guard I was resurrecting a dead man because he'd requested being allowed to help protect the town he'd so loved in life. That was a lie, as well. And my party believed me. Of course they did. Naturally they've had their suspicions, of course. They've even been suspicious of our Oathbreaker Paladin, but he's a paladin so he can't be that suspicious. And to help that, I've always been cautious around them. Always. I've never had a reason to make them question me, more or less. Doing bad things for the right reasons is still doing something with good intentions for the benefit of more than just yourself. I've always told myself they didn't need to see the side of me that was kicked out of the dwarven cities for my actions, that they didn't deserve to experience what those who knew me back at home did. Until now. Until that awful man took them and threatened them and hurt them and hid them away. I wasn't there with them when they need me to be. I was away, teasing bones out of the teeth of the dragon I had raised from the grave with the Oathbreaker. Each time Heskan, my dragon, consumes a living being, he becomes a little more alive, a little less skeletal, flesh and sinew regenerating into place from rotting tendrils of death magic I amplified with the Oathbreaker to bring back. We'd been recovering in the privacy of a forest grove outside of the city when it happened, and I didn't find out until the next day. I always sleep with Heskan- his ribcage has hammocks of burlap for our stuff, and it's free real estate, so why not? Some of our party jokes he's the "Bone Bus", and I'll be the first to admit that's what he's mostly for. But now that man- the general of this shit kingdom's tiny, half-assed army- has my friends. He's locked them up, lied and said they were invaders or demons or spies or whatever nonsense befit each of them in his mind. All so he could power trip over visitors. And I will not permit that. Heskan and I are outside of a three hundred year old graveyard that's housed every dead member of this city since its founding, all closely buried together to save space. That's quite a bit of fodder for me to abuse, and Heskan agrees. It won't take me long, most of the night maybe, but missing a night's worth of sleep in exchange for an undying army is well worth the cost to save my party. They're good people. And they deserve me.	I woke to the sound of footsteps. First thing I noticed was that it was pitch dark. Second thing I noticed was that I had a killer hangover. How much did I end up drinking last night? Let’s see… We got paid, we went for drinks at Art’s, Wes tried to flirt with the waitress, cap had a spat with Artie and... we got kicked out? Did I get arrested? Shit. A splash of icy water shocked me into motion. What the hells? I heard groaning and shuffling around me. “Who’s the asshole throwing the water around?” yelled someone to my left. “Ciara, is that you? Where the hells are we?” I said. Or tried to say, it came out more like a croak. “Park, is that you?” “What the-” A chorus of confused and just-awoken voices erupted around me. “Are we all in here?” “What in the 7th hell happened last night?” An unexpected voice chimed in from the darkness. “Hi everyone, you were brought in for questioning for the events of last week. If I can jog your memory, you were hired to spring a night-time ambush on the Traveler's House, outside of Sunset Gate.” I didn’t know who the stranger was, but the accent sounded a little western. Must be a boy from the provinces. “Quit blabbing and speak to the Captain of the Guard. We’re supposed to have an understanding,” said cap. “Oh, no. This isn’t an arrest or police action. You were involved in the abduction of some people I know and I want some answers,” The stranger replied. This guy was way too cheerful. Creepily so. “Is this some goddamn revenge fantasy? Are you actually serious right now?,” Cap let out a short laugh. “This only ends one way, kid. The Lady is gonna put you in multiple barrels and sink them to the bottom of the ocean. Cut your losses and let us go.” “Maybe. But I feel like I owe them something. I was going to leave the city and never turn back, but I think I really miss them, you know? For the first time in my life, I felt like I belonged somewhere. This is kind of a detour but... “ He trailed off. “Anyways, that’s why you’re here. I want answers and you have them.” “Nothing you can do is gonna be worse than what’s in stock for us if we talk. Try your best,” said Ciara. She always was the brave one. “I will,” said the stranger. A lantern flickered on, bringing the room into view. Over a dozen of us were sprawled out in a cell. The lantern made it difficult to see, but it looked like there was just a lone silhouette. One guy, seriously? There’s no way that just one guy could lock us up in here, was there? “Couple of questions. First, what happened to members of the Righteous Spear, Gil Guiseppe, Kaara, Flem, and Issac? Second, what is their condition? Third, where are they? And finally, who is the responsible party? Guessing this ‘Lady’ had something to do with the whole ordeal, but I’m gonna need a little more.” “Why don’t you come in and find out?” said Mort, leering. The stranger set down the lamp, and stepped to the side. Light-medium build, relatively short. Didn’t seem to be armed at all. He could definitely be mobbed if we got the drop on him. “I mean, I was seeing if I could avoid the whole interrogation thing,” The stranger shrugged. “Let’s start with a grizzled veteran who’s too dumb to spill the beans“ The stranger snapped his fingers and Mort disappeared. He reappeared on the other side of the bars, new silvery bindings appearing at his wrists and ankles. A sorcerer that could teleport people. Shit, everything got a lot more complicated. Before I could react, the stranger pulled out a dagger and rammed it into his eye. “You-you fucking psycho! I thought you were involved in a heroic party!” shouted Wes. I looked around, and everyone seemed to be in the process of realising no one was gonna get out of this alive. Stepping over Mort’s twitching body, he approached the cell again. “Emphasis on party. I’m just some miscreant they took under the wing.” The stranger pulled out another knife. “Who’s ready for round 2?” ---- 10 bodies later, the first person spoke up. 13 bodies later, a second person corroborated their story. 15 bodies later, there was no one left alive in the cell. The stranger poured some oil jugs into the cell, sparked a flame with his finger, and walked out of the basement. Checking himself for bloodstains, he walked back to the city. Whistling, he thought that this must be what righteousness felt like.
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	"Steel City Stalwarts, unite!" Comet Lad flew in and landed on Sergeant Static's right side. Nightshade Assassin swung down on one of her vines. Silver Cypher's armor hissed and clicked as the cooling systems compensated for the afterburners he'd used to get here. The Gray Gorrilla took the rear, his massive body throwing a shade over all of them. The team all looked ready to take on the entire force of Eric Nasty's henchman, collectively and individually. Except for one. Coming standing behind one of the Gorrilla's legs was Tigerlily, her uniform barely dusty from the fighting. She looked, as she always did, just a little like she was about to run. The Sergeant didn't seem to notice her fear. His eyes were on the tactical situation as his mind ran through strategies at lightning speed. He said, "There's no way we can find the Mayor in time as a group. We need to split up. Gray G, you clear this floor and start working up. Nightshade, you and me work our way down to the parking garage. Comet, start on the roof and meet Gray G in the middle. Cypher, hack into their cameras and find the mayor and find that bomb!" As their leader lifted Static Staff to give the call to action, Tigerlily said, "What do you need me to do boss?" Sergeant turned around and said, "Just stay here. Hold up in the courtroom over there. We'll bring the wounded to you. Heal them, then get them out. Can you handle that." The tiny lass said, "Yes sir! I won't let you down!" Sergeant Static reached out and ruffled her hair affectionately. "That's my girl. Everyone, to the rescue!" They all shouted in unison, "To the rescue!" They flew away. The Sergeant looked over his shoulder and made sure that Tigerlily made it to the courtroom where she'd wait. When they got to the door to the stairs, Nightshade Princess said, "You have to stop treating her like a kid. She's one of us. She's a superhero." Sergeant said, "She's a kid who can heal people. I'm tired of sending kids into battle, Shade." The princess of poisonous plants rolled her eyes, which contrasted with the proud smile. In the courtroom, though, Tigerlily was not smiling. Eric Nasty and fifteen of his Nastymen were standing, their weapons drawn. Eric stood over the bomb, his hands on the panel to enter the password, the last step to arming it. When he saw the white-clad healer, he drew his pistol and pointed at her. "Look what we got here! The mascot!" Tigerlily said, "You'll never defeat the Stalwarts! Just give up!" Eric stood, laughing. "Will I? And how will they defeat me, brat, without their powers?" She shook her head. "What?" Eric pointed to the bomb. "You super dummy's are all the same. I don't just mean that sickening sense of self righteousness. I mean that I figured it out. Every superhero, every one I could get a DNA sample for, you all derive your power from the same source. Would you like to know what it is? Get ready... it's aliens." The girl balled up her fists, "You're crazy." "No, I'm brilliant. I may not fly or shoot lightning or juggle sedans, but I have a power. I've got a mind sharp enough to split atoms. I also have money and I paid a lot for the remains of a very special ship recently brought up from the ocean. Atlantis was real! Aliens are real! The great pulse that turned people into superfreaks came from their technology. In a few minutes, I'm going to demosntrate all that, and unless you're wearing a countermeasure charm, like I am, say goodbye to your abilities and hello to the reign of Nasty!" Eric cackled. His men laughed and raised their blasters. And then one exploded. The room went dead. Tigerlily wasn't by the door anymore. She was standing within arms reach of where the ex-Nastyman had stood, his body now a spray of red chunks and foul smells. Eric said, "What the...?" Tigerlilly's body moved so fast that all you could see was a white blur. Her hands fell on two more. They detonated, the same way that their teammate had. She said, "No." Eric screamed, "Fire!" Tigerlily jumped as numerous bolts of light scorched the floor. She landed on the shoulders of another Nastyman. She twisted his head in a circle. Before he could fall, she leapt to another; his comrades cut him down trying to shoot her, along with the two on either side of him. Eric stopped firing. He dove for the bomb. Tigerlilly did a backflip and landed on ballet point on the top of another henchman's head. He splattered downward, his splattering like it had been dropped from the 50th floor. Tigerlilly's eyes were glass marbles, her mouth a small and straight line. She glided from soldier to soldier, each one either being ended with a quick and efficent blow or turned to vapor. Eric tapped out the password, but nerves and shaking fingers got him a "DENIED" on the screen. He tried it again. Same result. He tried to ignore the screams of his personal guard as they died all around him. "C'mon, c'mon... oh, crap that's the wrong password." He started to type in the right one, but he found he did not have a hand. He stared at the stump, weaping blood, and screamed. He looked up and saw tigerlilly, holding his hand like it was attached to an invisible crossing guard. "You don't get to speak about Atlantis," she said. "They were kind people, before the earthquake. They showed my people the first kindness we'd seen in a thousand worlds. That is, except for one. He was like you." Tigerlilly dropped the hand. Behind her, Eric could see a few corpses, but mostly he saw human sized stains. Somehow, the girl's clothes were still pristine. "He built weapons. We shared our tech at first. But then we saw what your kind might do with with it. We saw the darkness in your hearts, only too late. It sank the greatest city in your short history into the ocean. Your kind and my kind were both lost, save for a very few. We made a promise that day, one you're trying to undo." "Get away from me!" Eric shouted, trying to tie his belt around his arm stump. "For ten thousand years, I've given powers to your people. Manipulating your flesh is so easy. Eric stammered, "You... you what? But I-" "So many use them well. A few, not so much. Either way, it keeps you fighting amongst yourselves. The few of great power in an internal struggle while the rest of the world is content to wait and see what you do. "I will not see you reveal us. I will not see you try to undo ten millenia of guidance and nurturing. You, Eric, are the worst of your kind. While I will do anything it takes to see that your infant race not only remaisn thinking you're the greatest, fiercest, most dangerous creatures in the universe, but that you never advance so far that find out what really holds that title. Lucky for you that it was us, their little cousins that found you. "Now die." The doors burst open. The Sergeant and Nightshade were first. Silver Cypher flew in and said, "I knew it! This room was the only one with the cameras blocked out it had to be here!" The Sargeant yelled, "Where's Tigerlily?" A small voice said, "Here." They all turned and found her hugging her knees on the floor. Nightshade dashed, wrapping her leafy arms around the girl like a mother. "Oh T.L., did they hurt you?" The girl shook her head. "I found them like this. I think the bomb backfired." Sargeant Static said, "We should have found it faster." Cypher said, "It's okay. We all missed it." The Sargeant looked around the room. "Doesn't matter now. Let's get Tigerlilly and ourselves the hell out of here." Nightshade covered the girl's ears. "Language!" Tigerlilly giggled. "It's okay, Shade. I'm a big girl. I can take it."	"Wakey wakey!" A sing-song greeting poked the first hole in the haze filling the man's head. The armchair beneath him felt strangely hard and unfortable, and his limbs didn't seem to want to move. The grogginess and discomfort after a night of drinking, he was used to. The voice rousing him, not so much. The hard slap across the face, even less so. "I said: Wake. Up." That same voice, a growl instead of a song this time. A single bleary eye opened, peering about the room, trying to find the source of the voice. Realization dawned, and adrenaline cleared away any last dregs of the waking haze. This was not his home. This was not his armchair. His hands were bound to his sides, and his body was bound to the wooden chair beneath him. The room was dingy, poorly lit, and poorly constructed. A smell of mildew and sawdust filled his nose. He struggled against his bindings, but they held fast, and him with them. "Welcome back to the land of the living. For now, at least." His eyes snapped to the voice's owner. Across from him, straddling another plain wooden chair, was someone strangely familiar. His drinking companion from the previous night. He thought he'd recognized him from somewhere, but the mead was flowing that night, and that recognition slipped away from him at the time. Now, in the cold light of... was it day? He wasn't sure, but the light filtering in between the cracks in the wall suggested it. He brushed the thought from his mind, and focused again on the man in front of him. "You?!" "So, you DO know who I am! I was worried that my reputation wasn't as far reaching as I'd thought! Well, this saves time on introductions. I know who you are, Constable, and you know who I am, which means you probably figured out why we're both here, right?" The man grinned, the smile creasing his red skin, his gold-colored eyes seeming to bore right into his captive. The bound man was silent, and just glared at his captor. "I'll take that as a yes." "I ain't sayin' shit." "Fantastic. You start talking shit, we're going to have a bigger problem than we already do. You know why we're here, so let's skip straight to the main event. Where are they?" "Dunno what you're talking about, Nox." Nox closed his eyes for a moment and inhaled as a frustrated parent does before explaining something to a particularly slow child. "Okay, so, we're doing it this way, then? Good. I was hoping we would." It was a this point that the Constable noticed the particularly nasty-looking knife dangling from Nox's fingers, and the bucket of rock salt next to him. For a split second, an expression of worry crossed his face, before he remembered who he was dealing with. &#x200B; "Please, you're a hero. Helped save a town, hanging out with a paladin and everything. I know your type. You act all brooding and dangerous, but you ain't gonna do shit to me. Just let me go now, and maybe I'll consider not running you out of town. Again." The Constable scoffed. Valyar Nox had been a trouble-maker in the past, but since he'd been run out of town, he'd fallen in with a group of self-styled heroes. Together, they'd managed to defeat a plague of undead, save a town, defeat an evil necromancer, got a commendation from the Navy, the whole nine yards. Especially rare considering Nox was a Tiefling, a fiend-spawn. &#x200B; "You seem to have some real weird ideas about me, so, let me explain a few things. Yeah, I hang with heroes. They're my allies. I like having allies. If that means having to keep my nose clean, so be it. And it turns out, doing the right thing also pays pretty well. Now, though, those allies have gone missing. Someone, I'm guessing with connections to you and your bosses, had something to do with it. See, you're not smart enough to do this on your own, but I've a feeling you can point me in the right direction," Nox lightly tapped the point of the knife into the man's chest as he spoke. "So, here's what's going to happen. When we're done here, I am going to kill you. Nothing you say or do can change that fact," Nox said, in the most matter-of-fact tone possible. "But here's the good news: You get to influence what happens until that point! See, I'm going to ask you some questions. And you're going to answer me quickly, and you're going to answer me honestly. You do that and I'm happy with your answers? I give you a swig of whiskey, and stab you right in the heart. You die quick, you die painless." Nox's voice was disturbingly cheerful as he explained all of his, his face stretching into a grin once more. The cheer drained from his face , and his voice dropped into a growl as he continued. "But if you decide to mouth off? You lie to me? Hell, if I think you're taking too long to answer, well... You'd be surprised how much skin you can lose and not go in to shock." He pressed the blade flat against the Constable's cheek, pressing gently as he dragged it across the skin, until it just began to catch at the flesh. That slight twinge of pain, and the Constable's former bravado began to waver. His eyes flicked to Nox's face. The Tiefling was still grinning, his solid yellow eyes still boring into him. Sometimes a grin is show of happiness. This one was the grin of a predator that had been caged for far too long. &#x200B; "But... you can't do this! You're supposed to be a hero! You helped save all those people!" Panic began creeping in to the Constable's voice. This had to be some sort of hoax? Just a game of psychological chicken? He couldn't possible be serious? "Only half right. I did help save all those people, yes, because my allies were helping. But I did it because I like my allies, not because I like any of you people. And now, someone has stolen those allies- no, stolen my allies from me. See, when you say a hero can't do this..." Nox leaned in much closer now, the knife's edge beginning to draw blood. His grinning mouth was just inches from his captive's ear. "You're right."
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	I am a necromancer. My party knows this. Skorndrick Gristle, the Lost, at your service. In fact, the way I've worked myself out, my spells and my fighting capabilities, I'm probably the strongest member of our party. Do any of them suspect this? No. As far as they're concerned, I'm a good person who just.... helps the dead ease into the afterlife. And if that means telling them the dead wish to help, then that's what I've done. They've even got a joke excuse for me and my enchanted shovel- it's for digging "trenches". One time I bullshitted some suspicious librarians that didn't want to loan me a necromancy book with "The dead know the truth. There is meaning behind their existence. We all die, it doesn't have to be a bad thing. They need help, and I'm here for them." Another time I told a guard I was resurrecting a dead man because he'd requested being allowed to help protect the town he'd so loved in life. That was a lie, as well. And my party believed me. Of course they did. Naturally they've had their suspicions, of course. They've even been suspicious of our Oathbreaker Paladin, but he's a paladin so he can't be that suspicious. And to help that, I've always been cautious around them. Always. I've never had a reason to make them question me, more or less. Doing bad things for the right reasons is still doing something with good intentions for the benefit of more than just yourself. I've always told myself they didn't need to see the side of me that was kicked out of the dwarven cities for my actions, that they didn't deserve to experience what those who knew me back at home did. Until now. Until that awful man took them and threatened them and hurt them and hid them away. I wasn't there with them when they need me to be. I was away, teasing bones out of the teeth of the dragon I had raised from the grave with the Oathbreaker. Each time Heskan, my dragon, consumes a living being, he becomes a little more alive, a little less skeletal, flesh and sinew regenerating into place from rotting tendrils of death magic I amplified with the Oathbreaker to bring back. We'd been recovering in the privacy of a forest grove outside of the city when it happened, and I didn't find out until the next day. I always sleep with Heskan- his ribcage has hammocks of burlap for our stuff, and it's free real estate, so why not? Some of our party jokes he's the "Bone Bus", and I'll be the first to admit that's what he's mostly for. But now that man- the general of this shit kingdom's tiny, half-assed army- has my friends. He's locked them up, lied and said they were invaders or demons or spies or whatever nonsense befit each of them in his mind. All so he could power trip over visitors. And I will not permit that. Heskan and I are outside of a three hundred year old graveyard that's housed every dead member of this city since its founding, all closely buried together to save space. That's quite a bit of fodder for me to abuse, and Heskan agrees. It won't take me long, most of the night maybe, but missing a night's worth of sleep in exchange for an undying army is well worth the cost to save my party. They're good people. And they deserve me.	"Wakey wakey!" A sing-song greeting poked the first hole in the haze filling the man's head. The armchair beneath him felt strangely hard and unfortable, and his limbs didn't seem to want to move. The grogginess and discomfort after a night of drinking, he was used to. The voice rousing him, not so much. The hard slap across the face, even less so. "I said: Wake. Up." That same voice, a growl instead of a song this time. A single bleary eye opened, peering about the room, trying to find the source of the voice. Realization dawned, and adrenaline cleared away any last dregs of the waking haze. This was not his home. This was not his armchair. His hands were bound to his sides, and his body was bound to the wooden chair beneath him. The room was dingy, poorly lit, and poorly constructed. A smell of mildew and sawdust filled his nose. He struggled against his bindings, but they held fast, and him with them. "Welcome back to the land of the living. For now, at least." His eyes snapped to the voice's owner. Across from him, straddling another plain wooden chair, was someone strangely familiar. His drinking companion from the previous night. He thought he'd recognized him from somewhere, but the mead was flowing that night, and that recognition slipped away from him at the time. Now, in the cold light of... was it day? He wasn't sure, but the light filtering in between the cracks in the wall suggested it. He brushed the thought from his mind, and focused again on the man in front of him. "You?!" "So, you DO know who I am! I was worried that my reputation wasn't as far reaching as I'd thought! Well, this saves time on introductions. I know who you are, Constable, and you know who I am, which means you probably figured out why we're both here, right?" The man grinned, the smile creasing his red skin, his gold-colored eyes seeming to bore right into his captive. The bound man was silent, and just glared at his captor. "I'll take that as a yes." "I ain't sayin' shit." "Fantastic. You start talking shit, we're going to have a bigger problem than we already do. You know why we're here, so let's skip straight to the main event. Where are they?" "Dunno what you're talking about, Nox." Nox closed his eyes for a moment and inhaled as a frustrated parent does before explaining something to a particularly slow child. "Okay, so, we're doing it this way, then? Good. I was hoping we would." It was a this point that the Constable noticed the particularly nasty-looking knife dangling from Nox's fingers, and the bucket of rock salt next to him. For a split second, an expression of worry crossed his face, before he remembered who he was dealing with. &#x200B; "Please, you're a hero. Helped save a town, hanging out with a paladin and everything. I know your type. You act all brooding and dangerous, but you ain't gonna do shit to me. Just let me go now, and maybe I'll consider not running you out of town. Again." The Constable scoffed. Valyar Nox had been a trouble-maker in the past, but since he'd been run out of town, he'd fallen in with a group of self-styled heroes. Together, they'd managed to defeat a plague of undead, save a town, defeat an evil necromancer, got a commendation from the Navy, the whole nine yards. Especially rare considering Nox was a Tiefling, a fiend-spawn. &#x200B; "You seem to have some real weird ideas about me, so, let me explain a few things. Yeah, I hang with heroes. They're my allies. I like having allies. If that means having to keep my nose clean, so be it. And it turns out, doing the right thing also pays pretty well. Now, though, those allies have gone missing. Someone, I'm guessing with connections to you and your bosses, had something to do with it. See, you're not smart enough to do this on your own, but I've a feeling you can point me in the right direction," Nox lightly tapped the point of the knife into the man's chest as he spoke. "So, here's what's going to happen. When we're done here, I am going to kill you. Nothing you say or do can change that fact," Nox said, in the most matter-of-fact tone possible. "But here's the good news: You get to influence what happens until that point! See, I'm going to ask you some questions. And you're going to answer me quickly, and you're going to answer me honestly. You do that and I'm happy with your answers? I give you a swig of whiskey, and stab you right in the heart. You die quick, you die painless." Nox's voice was disturbingly cheerful as he explained all of his, his face stretching into a grin once more. The cheer drained from his face , and his voice dropped into a growl as he continued. "But if you decide to mouth off? You lie to me? Hell, if I think you're taking too long to answer, well... You'd be surprised how much skin you can lose and not go in to shock." He pressed the blade flat against the Constable's cheek, pressing gently as he dragged it across the skin, until it just began to catch at the flesh. That slight twinge of pain, and the Constable's former bravado began to waver. His eyes flicked to Nox's face. The Tiefling was still grinning, his solid yellow eyes still boring into him. Sometimes a grin is show of happiness. This one was the grin of a predator that had been caged for far too long. &#x200B; "But... you can't do this! You're supposed to be a hero! You helped save all those people!" Panic began creeping in to the Constable's voice. This had to be some sort of hoax? Just a game of psychological chicken? He couldn't possible be serious? "Only half right. I did help save all those people, yes, because my allies were helping. But I did it because I like my allies, not because I like any of you people. And now, someone has stolen those allies- no, stolen my allies from me. See, when you say a hero can't do this..." Nox leaned in much closer now, the knife's edge beginning to draw blood. His grinning mouth was just inches from his captive's ear. "You're right."
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	My party-my friends-have been missing for almost a week. We were supposed to meet up near the church and...they never showed. Lucky for me the church's priest invited me in, and allowed me to stay for the night last night. The climate had gotten cold, and our locksmith rogue kept the money safe, so I had none for an inn. It was last night I got my first clue. As I prepared to sleep, someone broke open the church door. They sounded like thugs, and as they tried to loot the donations vault, they were talking about the ransom they plan to get from the king using the princess and her esteemed guards. The princess and her guards...my friends. After a lovely chat with those fellows, I grabbed a clean set of monk's clothing from the church wardrobe; I promise to return them when I'm done, but it wouldn't do me any good to go through the town wearing bloodied rags. Sure, it'll be highly questionable seeing me dressed as a monk, but it's better than the alternative. I just need to find their friend, who hides in the sewer near the Rusty Flask, because that's who his dead friends directed me to. My arm! H-h-how did you bend it that waAAAaaaAAAugh!!!... Th-Those horns! W-w-what the hell are you-gh-gh-ghugh.... Teeth don't look like that, get away from me! Sto-AAAAAAAaaaaaugh.... Having the abilities of a demon has its advantages, but it would be nice if I could tone down the...let's just say "additional" features a little bit. At least I can hide the wings. Too much blood on me and they think I'm a vampire, which is hilarious, since vampires don't actually exist anymore. At least my friends knew that. They enjoyed having a reformed demigod on their side. Well, they think I'm a demigod, anyway. I'm not about to go and correct the only beings to ever care about me. Especially Princess Valeria. I never imagined someone of royalty could be so kind and empathetic. It's ok, Dremyoluok, its not your fault you are the way you are. Be proud of yourself for choosing your own destiny. Not every fallen angel gets a chance at redemption. Paul, Tri-Krimea, Folthum and myself, we will support you every inch of the way. You can help us protect the kingdom! That was almost 2 years ago, that they found me in that cave. I'll never forget the kindness they showed me, and the help they've rendered. It took me a few months of rehabilitation, but from then I've sworn that I won't let anyone bring harm upon my friends as long as I'm with them. No matter what. Paul the Monster-Slayer, Paladin of Thoruld, God of Righteous Might; Tri-Krimea, the elven naturalist and druid; Folthum the Wise, wielder of deep and powerful magic. They were eternally loyal to the naturally graceful and beautiful Princess Valeria; She is considered a top student at the High College of Magical Arts, having learned almost every healing spell along with many spells of both evocation and enchantment. I told them several half truths about myself, true enough to pass a Zone of Truth test, but not enough for them to know the full history of what I've done. I had truly stopped committing evil deeds only about 200 years before then, and had bound myself to that cave for almost 50 years. Truth is, I was turned into that form almost 2000 years ago, and the demonic power went straight to my head. Make of that what you will. I don't know how the bandits managed to capture them, but I know where to look now. They have a hideout a few miles north, and it only took an hour to extract the info from the bandit in the sewer. And how did he manage to also have seven friends hidden with him? At least there was enough clean water running through to get the blood off the robes. I can ditch the robes back by the church on my way out of town, before the sun rises. I won't need the rags on my mission. I'll leave an apology for the priest, and a small donation from those who no longer need their money. My friends...I can pick up their scents now. I've found the encampment. I hope they can forgive me for what will happen to these bandits...I should be able to get through the 30 bandits patrolling the perimeter before the rest notice the missing patrols. Who would've guessed only a few miles north of town, there was a bandit camp the size of a small city? Almost as many bandits as 3 villages worth of people. I think I might be about to knock out two birds with one stone here...save my friends, and solve the kingdom's bandit problem for a while...	"Wakey wakey!" A sing-song greeting poked the first hole in the haze filling the man's head. The armchair beneath him felt strangely hard and unfortable, and his limbs didn't seem to want to move. The grogginess and discomfort after a night of drinking, he was used to. The voice rousing him, not so much. The hard slap across the face, even less so. "I said: Wake. Up." That same voice, a growl instead of a song this time. A single bleary eye opened, peering about the room, trying to find the source of the voice. Realization dawned, and adrenaline cleared away any last dregs of the waking haze. This was not his home. This was not his armchair. His hands were bound to his sides, and his body was bound to the wooden chair beneath him. The room was dingy, poorly lit, and poorly constructed. A smell of mildew and sawdust filled his nose. He struggled against his bindings, but they held fast, and him with them. "Welcome back to the land of the living. For now, at least." His eyes snapped to the voice's owner. Across from him, straddling another plain wooden chair, was someone strangely familiar. His drinking companion from the previous night. He thought he'd recognized him from somewhere, but the mead was flowing that night, and that recognition slipped away from him at the time. Now, in the cold light of... was it day? He wasn't sure, but the light filtering in between the cracks in the wall suggested it. He brushed the thought from his mind, and focused again on the man in front of him. "You?!" "So, you DO know who I am! I was worried that my reputation wasn't as far reaching as I'd thought! Well, this saves time on introductions. I know who you are, Constable, and you know who I am, which means you probably figured out why we're both here, right?" The man grinned, the smile creasing his red skin, his gold-colored eyes seeming to bore right into his captive. The bound man was silent, and just glared at his captor. "I'll take that as a yes." "I ain't sayin' shit." "Fantastic. You start talking shit, we're going to have a bigger problem than we already do. You know why we're here, so let's skip straight to the main event. Where are they?" "Dunno what you're talking about, Nox." Nox closed his eyes for a moment and inhaled as a frustrated parent does before explaining something to a particularly slow child. "Okay, so, we're doing it this way, then? Good. I was hoping we would." It was a this point that the Constable noticed the particularly nasty-looking knife dangling from Nox's fingers, and the bucket of rock salt next to him. For a split second, an expression of worry crossed his face, before he remembered who he was dealing with. &#x200B; "Please, you're a hero. Helped save a town, hanging out with a paladin and everything. I know your type. You act all brooding and dangerous, but you ain't gonna do shit to me. Just let me go now, and maybe I'll consider not running you out of town. Again." The Constable scoffed. Valyar Nox had been a trouble-maker in the past, but since he'd been run out of town, he'd fallen in with a group of self-styled heroes. Together, they'd managed to defeat a plague of undead, save a town, defeat an evil necromancer, got a commendation from the Navy, the whole nine yards. Especially rare considering Nox was a Tiefling, a fiend-spawn. &#x200B; "You seem to have some real weird ideas about me, so, let me explain a few things. Yeah, I hang with heroes. They're my allies. I like having allies. If that means having to keep my nose clean, so be it. And it turns out, doing the right thing also pays pretty well. Now, though, those allies have gone missing. Someone, I'm guessing with connections to you and your bosses, had something to do with it. See, you're not smart enough to do this on your own, but I've a feeling you can point me in the right direction," Nox lightly tapped the point of the knife into the man's chest as he spoke. "So, here's what's going to happen. When we're done here, I am going to kill you. Nothing you say or do can change that fact," Nox said, in the most matter-of-fact tone possible. "But here's the good news: You get to influence what happens until that point! See, I'm going to ask you some questions. And you're going to answer me quickly, and you're going to answer me honestly. You do that and I'm happy with your answers? I give you a swig of whiskey, and stab you right in the heart. You die quick, you die painless." Nox's voice was disturbingly cheerful as he explained all of his, his face stretching into a grin once more. The cheer drained from his face , and his voice dropped into a growl as he continued. "But if you decide to mouth off? You lie to me? Hell, if I think you're taking too long to answer, well... You'd be surprised how much skin you can lose and not go in to shock." He pressed the blade flat against the Constable's cheek, pressing gently as he dragged it across the skin, until it just began to catch at the flesh. That slight twinge of pain, and the Constable's former bravado began to waver. His eyes flicked to Nox's face. The Tiefling was still grinning, his solid yellow eyes still boring into him. Sometimes a grin is show of happiness. This one was the grin of a predator that had been caged for far too long. &#x200B; "But... you can't do this! You're supposed to be a hero! You helped save all those people!" Panic began creeping in to the Constable's voice. This had to be some sort of hoax? Just a game of psychological chicken? He couldn't possible be serious? "Only half right. I did help save all those people, yes, because my allies were helping. But I did it because I like my allies, not because I like any of you people. And now, someone has stolen those allies- no, stolen my allies from me. See, when you say a hero can't do this..." Nox leaned in much closer now, the knife's edge beginning to draw blood. His grinning mouth was just inches from his captive's ear. "You're right."
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	Help those in need. Protect the innocent. No one is beyond redemption. These are the rules I’ve lived by since joining up with The Good Guys, the name we gave ourselves when we set out to free the hamlets from the grips of a tyrant. My only friends. Eve was the one who brought me in to the group. A court jester turned vigilante, who kept her blade nearly as sharp as her tongue. She taught me that no one was beyond redemption. They would have been well within their rights to hang me for stealing the blade of morning from them. But with my back against a wall and sword at my throat she’s the one who plead my case. They needed a thief to steal it back, and I was the only one they knew. Marx disagreed. I’d spent a lifetime stealing and killing to get by. He believed, no he knew, those people deserved justice. He was right of course, I knew it then as well I know it now. It took months for him to trust me. Never letting me out of his sight less I hurt the innocents he swore to protect. I couldn’t believe my eyes as this man, who seemed more of a giant to me, was beaten down and captured by the mad kings men. Michael was the deciding vote. A warrior priest, who should have seen monster when he looked at me, but saw a broken man in need. He helped me more than he’ll ever know. He saved my life a dozen times over. I just hope I’m up to the task of returning the favor. Help those in need. Protect the innocent. No one is beyond redemption. These are the rules I’ve lived by since I met my friends. But they’ve all been taken, either prisoners or dead by King Matthew’s hand. And before I die I’ll see to it the mad king know why a good man doesn’t need rules.	"Wakey wakey!" A sing-song greeting poked the first hole in the haze filling the man's head. The armchair beneath him felt strangely hard and unfortable, and his limbs didn't seem to want to move. The grogginess and discomfort after a night of drinking, he was used to. The voice rousing him, not so much. The hard slap across the face, even less so. "I said: Wake. Up." That same voice, a growl instead of a song this time. A single bleary eye opened, peering about the room, trying to find the source of the voice. Realization dawned, and adrenaline cleared away any last dregs of the waking haze. This was not his home. This was not his armchair. His hands were bound to his sides, and his body was bound to the wooden chair beneath him. The room was dingy, poorly lit, and poorly constructed. A smell of mildew and sawdust filled his nose. He struggled against his bindings, but they held fast, and him with them. "Welcome back to the land of the living. For now, at least." His eyes snapped to the voice's owner. Across from him, straddling another plain wooden chair, was someone strangely familiar. His drinking companion from the previous night. He thought he'd recognized him from somewhere, but the mead was flowing that night, and that recognition slipped away from him at the time. Now, in the cold light of... was it day? He wasn't sure, but the light filtering in between the cracks in the wall suggested it. He brushed the thought from his mind, and focused again on the man in front of him. "You?!" "So, you DO know who I am! I was worried that my reputation wasn't as far reaching as I'd thought! Well, this saves time on introductions. I know who you are, Constable, and you know who I am, which means you probably figured out why we're both here, right?" The man grinned, the smile creasing his red skin, his gold-colored eyes seeming to bore right into his captive. The bound man was silent, and just glared at his captor. "I'll take that as a yes." "I ain't sayin' shit." "Fantastic. You start talking shit, we're going to have a bigger problem than we already do. You know why we're here, so let's skip straight to the main event. Where are they?" "Dunno what you're talking about, Nox." Nox closed his eyes for a moment and inhaled as a frustrated parent does before explaining something to a particularly slow child. "Okay, so, we're doing it this way, then? Good. I was hoping we would." It was a this point that the Constable noticed the particularly nasty-looking knife dangling from Nox's fingers, and the bucket of rock salt next to him. For a split second, an expression of worry crossed his face, before he remembered who he was dealing with. &#x200B; "Please, you're a hero. Helped save a town, hanging out with a paladin and everything. I know your type. You act all brooding and dangerous, but you ain't gonna do shit to me. Just let me go now, and maybe I'll consider not running you out of town. Again." The Constable scoffed. Valyar Nox had been a trouble-maker in the past, but since he'd been run out of town, he'd fallen in with a group of self-styled heroes. Together, they'd managed to defeat a plague of undead, save a town, defeat an evil necromancer, got a commendation from the Navy, the whole nine yards. Especially rare considering Nox was a Tiefling, a fiend-spawn. &#x200B; "You seem to have some real weird ideas about me, so, let me explain a few things. Yeah, I hang with heroes. They're my allies. I like having allies. If that means having to keep my nose clean, so be it. And it turns out, doing the right thing also pays pretty well. Now, though, those allies have gone missing. Someone, I'm guessing with connections to you and your bosses, had something to do with it. See, you're not smart enough to do this on your own, but I've a feeling you can point me in the right direction," Nox lightly tapped the point of the knife into the man's chest as he spoke. "So, here's what's going to happen. When we're done here, I am going to kill you. Nothing you say or do can change that fact," Nox said, in the most matter-of-fact tone possible. "But here's the good news: You get to influence what happens until that point! See, I'm going to ask you some questions. And you're going to answer me quickly, and you're going to answer me honestly. You do that and I'm happy with your answers? I give you a swig of whiskey, and stab you right in the heart. You die quick, you die painless." Nox's voice was disturbingly cheerful as he explained all of his, his face stretching into a grin once more. The cheer drained from his face , and his voice dropped into a growl as he continued. "But if you decide to mouth off? You lie to me? Hell, if I think you're taking too long to answer, well... You'd be surprised how much skin you can lose and not go in to shock." He pressed the blade flat against the Constable's cheek, pressing gently as he dragged it across the skin, until it just began to catch at the flesh. That slight twinge of pain, and the Constable's former bravado began to waver. His eyes flicked to Nox's face. The Tiefling was still grinning, his solid yellow eyes still boring into him. Sometimes a grin is show of happiness. This one was the grin of a predator that had been caged for far too long. &#x200B; "But... you can't do this! You're supposed to be a hero! You helped save all those people!" Panic began creeping in to the Constable's voice. This had to be some sort of hoax? Just a game of psychological chicken? He couldn't possible be serious? "Only half right. I did help save all those people, yes, because my allies were helping. But I did it because I like my allies, not because I like any of you people. And now, someone has stolen those allies- no, stolen my allies from me. See, when you say a hero can't do this..." Nox leaned in much closer now, the knife's edge beginning to draw blood. His grinning mouth was just inches from his captive's ear. "You're right."
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	"Steel City Stalwarts, unite!" Comet Lad flew in and landed on Sergeant Static's right side. Nightshade Assassin swung down on one of her vines. Silver Cypher's armor hissed and clicked as the cooling systems compensated for the afterburners he'd used to get here. The Gray Gorrilla took the rear, his massive body throwing a shade over all of them. The team all looked ready to take on the entire force of Eric Nasty's henchman, collectively and individually. Except for one. Coming standing behind one of the Gorrilla's legs was Tigerlily, her uniform barely dusty from the fighting. She looked, as she always did, just a little like she was about to run. The Sergeant didn't seem to notice her fear. His eyes were on the tactical situation as his mind ran through strategies at lightning speed. He said, "There's no way we can find the Mayor in time as a group. We need to split up. Gray G, you clear this floor and start working up. Nightshade, you and me work our way down to the parking garage. Comet, start on the roof and meet Gray G in the middle. Cypher, hack into their cameras and find the mayor and find that bomb!" As their leader lifted Static Staff to give the call to action, Tigerlily said, "What do you need me to do boss?" Sergeant turned around and said, "Just stay here. Hold up in the courtroom over there. We'll bring the wounded to you. Heal them, then get them out. Can you handle that." The tiny lass said, "Yes sir! I won't let you down!" Sergeant Static reached out and ruffled her hair affectionately. "That's my girl. Everyone, to the rescue!" They all shouted in unison, "To the rescue!" They flew away. The Sergeant looked over his shoulder and made sure that Tigerlily made it to the courtroom where she'd wait. When they got to the door to the stairs, Nightshade Princess said, "You have to stop treating her like a kid. She's one of us. She's a superhero." Sergeant said, "She's a kid who can heal people. I'm tired of sending kids into battle, Shade." The princess of poisonous plants rolled her eyes, which contrasted with the proud smile. In the courtroom, though, Tigerlily was not smiling. Eric Nasty and fifteen of his Nastymen were standing, their weapons drawn. Eric stood over the bomb, his hands on the panel to enter the password, the last step to arming it. When he saw the white-clad healer, he drew his pistol and pointed at her. "Look what we got here! The mascot!" Tigerlily said, "You'll never defeat the Stalwarts! Just give up!" Eric stood, laughing. "Will I? And how will they defeat me, brat, without their powers?" She shook her head. "What?" Eric pointed to the bomb. "You super dummy's are all the same. I don't just mean that sickening sense of self righteousness. I mean that I figured it out. Every superhero, every one I could get a DNA sample for, you all derive your power from the same source. Would you like to know what it is? Get ready... it's aliens." The girl balled up her fists, "You're crazy." "No, I'm brilliant. I may not fly or shoot lightning or juggle sedans, but I have a power. I've got a mind sharp enough to split atoms. I also have money and I paid a lot for the remains of a very special ship recently brought up from the ocean. Atlantis was real! Aliens are real! The great pulse that turned people into superfreaks came from their technology. In a few minutes, I'm going to demosntrate all that, and unless you're wearing a countermeasure charm, like I am, say goodbye to your abilities and hello to the reign of Nasty!" Eric cackled. His men laughed and raised their blasters. And then one exploded. The room went dead. Tigerlily wasn't by the door anymore. She was standing within arms reach of where the ex-Nastyman had stood, his body now a spray of red chunks and foul smells. Eric said, "What the...?" Tigerlilly's body moved so fast that all you could see was a white blur. Her hands fell on two more. They detonated, the same way that their teammate had. She said, "No." Eric screamed, "Fire!" Tigerlily jumped as numerous bolts of light scorched the floor. She landed on the shoulders of another Nastyman. She twisted his head in a circle. Before he could fall, she leapt to another; his comrades cut him down trying to shoot her, along with the two on either side of him. Eric stopped firing. He dove for the bomb. Tigerlilly did a backflip and landed on ballet point on the top of another henchman's head. He splattered downward, his splattering like it had been dropped from the 50th floor. Tigerlilly's eyes were glass marbles, her mouth a small and straight line. She glided from soldier to soldier, each one either being ended with a quick and efficent blow or turned to vapor. Eric tapped out the password, but nerves and shaking fingers got him a "DENIED" on the screen. He tried it again. Same result. He tried to ignore the screams of his personal guard as they died all around him. "C'mon, c'mon... oh, crap that's the wrong password." He started to type in the right one, but he found he did not have a hand. He stared at the stump, weaping blood, and screamed. He looked up and saw tigerlilly, holding his hand like it was attached to an invisible crossing guard. "You don't get to speak about Atlantis," she said. "They were kind people, before the earthquake. They showed my people the first kindness we'd seen in a thousand worlds. That is, except for one. He was like you." Tigerlilly dropped the hand. Behind her, Eric could see a few corpses, but mostly he saw human sized stains. Somehow, the girl's clothes were still pristine. "He built weapons. We shared our tech at first. But then we saw what your kind might do with with it. We saw the darkness in your hearts, only too late. It sank the greatest city in your short history into the ocean. Your kind and my kind were both lost, save for a very few. We made a promise that day, one you're trying to undo." "Get away from me!" Eric shouted, trying to tie his belt around his arm stump. "For ten thousand years, I've given powers to your people. Manipulating your flesh is so easy. Eric stammered, "You... you what? But I-" "So many use them well. A few, not so much. Either way, it keeps you fighting amongst yourselves. The few of great power in an internal struggle while the rest of the world is content to wait and see what you do. "I will not see you reveal us. I will not see you try to undo ten millenia of guidance and nurturing. You, Eric, are the worst of your kind. While I will do anything it takes to see that your infant race not only remaisn thinking you're the greatest, fiercest, most dangerous creatures in the universe, but that you never advance so far that find out what really holds that title. Lucky for you that it was us, their little cousins that found you. "Now die." The doors burst open. The Sergeant and Nightshade were first. Silver Cypher flew in and said, "I knew it! This room was the only one with the cameras blocked out it had to be here!" The Sargeant yelled, "Where's Tigerlily?" A small voice said, "Here." They all turned and found her hugging her knees on the floor. Nightshade dashed, wrapping her leafy arms around the girl like a mother. "Oh T.L., did they hurt you?" The girl shook her head. "I found them like this. I think the bomb backfired." Sargeant Static said, "We should have found it faster." Cypher said, "It's okay. We all missed it." The Sargeant looked around the room. "Doesn't matter now. Let's get Tigerlilly and ourselves the hell out of here." Nightshade covered the girl's ears. "Language!" Tigerlilly giggled. "It's okay, Shade. I'm a big girl. I can take it."	After my parents died early on in my life, I wasn't the same cheerful person I always was. I started taking dangerous missions and fighting monsters I could barely beat on my own. I was aimless, without a purpose, trying to fill an endless void with mere adrenaline. It didn't work. But I was lucky, because it was at my lowest point where I found them. The void in my soul was filled, even overflowing! Five unique people, friendly, adventurous, exciting... loving. I had- correction, they had found me, and we became a tight knit family. And one day they were gone. Like they vanished out of the face of the earth, without a notice, without a word. I panicked, wondered if they left me... But I knew them, I trusted myself in what I knew about them, and I knew they wouldn't had just gone and left, without a word, without a sound. I was always my best self when around them, didn't even need to try, they were just that important to me that I wouldn't even think of anything hurtful. But they weren't here now. They were gone, something was up and they couldn't see what I was going to do to get them back. First I broke into the office of the city's leader, killed a few of his guards and interrogated him. If he knew nothing about my friends, sorry, goodbye, you never saw me. But he knew, he lied to me because he knew the people I was talking about. For each lie I cut a finger... and he lied a lot. It was too bad I had gotten used to being lied to, lying and in consequence knowing when someone was lying. After losing three of his fingers he knew I wasn't easily fooled. Then he tried to misdirect me, which also didn't work. When he finally decided it wasn't worth the pain, he let out most of what he knew. He claimed it was all, but I knew it wasn't. It didn't matter though, so I didn't comment. The five had actually gotten into a large debt before meeting me. It wasn't a simple debt either, not with how much the governor tried to cover it up. Adventuring is an expensive habit for beginners. The only reason I was able to begin a solo path in it was from my parents money in the first place. My family on the other hand had no choice but to borrow a large amount of money, for equipment, consumables, magic scrolls, etc. Their large need of money was also what led them to be more... reckless, than others. Well, it wasn't a difference from my previous activities, if anything it was safer, but it was also our first common ground. Shaking my head, I focused on the task at hand. Before they got sold off or killed for their bodies I had to get them back. Where and what would I do to get them? Well, for starters the city had to go, too hard with it in place. Thus my starting point was in an alchemist's alcove... well, former alchemist's alcove, now it was mine. Poison this, poison that... that's just stupid, just fuck up with the water and you're done. Due to not knowing if my friends would also be affected by the poison, I chose something non-lethal. Well, if everyone is on the toilet it's hard to defend against a monster rampage, isn't it? My thoughts exactly! Located near the outskirts of the city, the stronghold which was most likely holding my friends was hit first and was hit hard. Of course, I had to do a lot of work to lure a few hundred monsters to a specific part of the city, but I had dealt with worse. The gates were broken down in mere minuted without anyone to hold position and the stronghold was much the same. I continued inside what should have been my grave if I went on my own, trying to find my friends. It was hard to believe this was city sanctioned, but alas, the city needs that one more extra income source! Well, it wasn't about to continue being a source for much longer, but it still made me annoyed. Weakened people tried to fight off monsters that were in general stronger than a average adventurer. It didn't work. The city wasn't that badly affected, not many innocent individuals died, while also not many guards died. The exception was my point of focus, which barely had a door standing at the end of my stroll. The prisoners were protected in the metal cages, all weakened by my poison, but a few certain five wouldn't be for much longer. Of course, they made me share my remaining antidote with a few of the other people they made me free. This whole situation made me feel weird about myself. Would they assume I had just gone up and saved them, or would they ask? And if they asked, would I say the truth? As I stared at the beaten and rugged figures of my friends, I thought I really shouldn't had left everyone off that easily. At least I had killed off the city's leader whom seemed to be guy behind all of this. Thankfully no one was dead, I dreaded to even think of what I would had done to this poor city if that had happened... Well, to be honest, it isn't something hard to imagine. That alchemist wasn't a friendly person, I wasn't a friendly person, and when you combine the willingness of a madman with the seriousness of a scared alchemist you get really bad results.
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	I am a necromancer. My party knows this. Skorndrick Gristle, the Lost, at your service. In fact, the way I've worked myself out, my spells and my fighting capabilities, I'm probably the strongest member of our party. Do any of them suspect this? No. As far as they're concerned, I'm a good person who just.... helps the dead ease into the afterlife. And if that means telling them the dead wish to help, then that's what I've done. They've even got a joke excuse for me and my enchanted shovel- it's for digging "trenches". One time I bullshitted some suspicious librarians that didn't want to loan me a necromancy book with "The dead know the truth. There is meaning behind their existence. We all die, it doesn't have to be a bad thing. They need help, and I'm here for them." Another time I told a guard I was resurrecting a dead man because he'd requested being allowed to help protect the town he'd so loved in life. That was a lie, as well. And my party believed me. Of course they did. Naturally they've had their suspicions, of course. They've even been suspicious of our Oathbreaker Paladin, but he's a paladin so he can't be that suspicious. And to help that, I've always been cautious around them. Always. I've never had a reason to make them question me, more or less. Doing bad things for the right reasons is still doing something with good intentions for the benefit of more than just yourself. I've always told myself they didn't need to see the side of me that was kicked out of the dwarven cities for my actions, that they didn't deserve to experience what those who knew me back at home did. Until now. Until that awful man took them and threatened them and hurt them and hid them away. I wasn't there with them when they need me to be. I was away, teasing bones out of the teeth of the dragon I had raised from the grave with the Oathbreaker. Each time Heskan, my dragon, consumes a living being, he becomes a little more alive, a little less skeletal, flesh and sinew regenerating into place from rotting tendrils of death magic I amplified with the Oathbreaker to bring back. We'd been recovering in the privacy of a forest grove outside of the city when it happened, and I didn't find out until the next day. I always sleep with Heskan- his ribcage has hammocks of burlap for our stuff, and it's free real estate, so why not? Some of our party jokes he's the "Bone Bus", and I'll be the first to admit that's what he's mostly for. But now that man- the general of this shit kingdom's tiny, half-assed army- has my friends. He's locked them up, lied and said they were invaders or demons or spies or whatever nonsense befit each of them in his mind. All so he could power trip over visitors. And I will not permit that. Heskan and I are outside of a three hundred year old graveyard that's housed every dead member of this city since its founding, all closely buried together to save space. That's quite a bit of fodder for me to abuse, and Heskan agrees. It won't take me long, most of the night maybe, but missing a night's worth of sleep in exchange for an undying army is well worth the cost to save my party. They're good people. And they deserve me.	After my parents died early on in my life, I wasn't the same cheerful person I always was. I started taking dangerous missions and fighting monsters I could barely beat on my own. I was aimless, without a purpose, trying to fill an endless void with mere adrenaline. It didn't work. But I was lucky, because it was at my lowest point where I found them. The void in my soul was filled, even overflowing! Five unique people, friendly, adventurous, exciting... loving. I had- correction, they had found me, and we became a tight knit family. And one day they were gone. Like they vanished out of the face of the earth, without a notice, without a word. I panicked, wondered if they left me... But I knew them, I trusted myself in what I knew about them, and I knew they wouldn't had just gone and left, without a word, without a sound. I was always my best self when around them, didn't even need to try, they were just that important to me that I wouldn't even think of anything hurtful. But they weren't here now. They were gone, something was up and they couldn't see what I was going to do to get them back. First I broke into the office of the city's leader, killed a few of his guards and interrogated him. If he knew nothing about my friends, sorry, goodbye, you never saw me. But he knew, he lied to me because he knew the people I was talking about. For each lie I cut a finger... and he lied a lot. It was too bad I had gotten used to being lied to, lying and in consequence knowing when someone was lying. After losing three of his fingers he knew I wasn't easily fooled. Then he tried to misdirect me, which also didn't work. When he finally decided it wasn't worth the pain, he let out most of what he knew. He claimed it was all, but I knew it wasn't. It didn't matter though, so I didn't comment. The five had actually gotten into a large debt before meeting me. It wasn't a simple debt either, not with how much the governor tried to cover it up. Adventuring is an expensive habit for beginners. The only reason I was able to begin a solo path in it was from my parents money in the first place. My family on the other hand had no choice but to borrow a large amount of money, for equipment, consumables, magic scrolls, etc. Their large need of money was also what led them to be more... reckless, than others. Well, it wasn't a difference from my previous activities, if anything it was safer, but it was also our first common ground. Shaking my head, I focused on the task at hand. Before they got sold off or killed for their bodies I had to get them back. Where and what would I do to get them? Well, for starters the city had to go, too hard with it in place. Thus my starting point was in an alchemist's alcove... well, former alchemist's alcove, now it was mine. Poison this, poison that... that's just stupid, just fuck up with the water and you're done. Due to not knowing if my friends would also be affected by the poison, I chose something non-lethal. Well, if everyone is on the toilet it's hard to defend against a monster rampage, isn't it? My thoughts exactly! Located near the outskirts of the city, the stronghold which was most likely holding my friends was hit first and was hit hard. Of course, I had to do a lot of work to lure a few hundred monsters to a specific part of the city, but I had dealt with worse. The gates were broken down in mere minuted without anyone to hold position and the stronghold was much the same. I continued inside what should have been my grave if I went on my own, trying to find my friends. It was hard to believe this was city sanctioned, but alas, the city needs that one more extra income source! Well, it wasn't about to continue being a source for much longer, but it still made me annoyed. Weakened people tried to fight off monsters that were in general stronger than a average adventurer. It didn't work. The city wasn't that badly affected, not many innocent individuals died, while also not many guards died. The exception was my point of focus, which barely had a door standing at the end of my stroll. The prisoners were protected in the metal cages, all weakened by my poison, but a few certain five wouldn't be for much longer. Of course, they made me share my remaining antidote with a few of the other people they made me free. This whole situation made me feel weird about myself. Would they assume I had just gone up and saved them, or would they ask? And if they asked, would I say the truth? As I stared at the beaten and rugged figures of my friends, I thought I really shouldn't had left everyone off that easily. At least I had killed off the city's leader whom seemed to be guy behind all of this. Thankfully no one was dead, I dreaded to even think of what I would had done to this poor city if that had happened... Well, to be honest, it isn't something hard to imagine. That alchemist wasn't a friendly person, I wasn't a friendly person, and when you combine the willingness of a madman with the seriousness of a scared alchemist you get really bad results.
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	"Steel City Stalwarts, unite!" Comet Lad flew in and landed on Sergeant Static's right side. Nightshade Assassin swung down on one of her vines. Silver Cypher's armor hissed and clicked as the cooling systems compensated for the afterburners he'd used to get here. The Gray Gorrilla took the rear, his massive body throwing a shade over all of them. The team all looked ready to take on the entire force of Eric Nasty's henchman, collectively and individually. Except for one. Coming standing behind one of the Gorrilla's legs was Tigerlily, her uniform barely dusty from the fighting. She looked, as she always did, just a little like she was about to run. The Sergeant didn't seem to notice her fear. His eyes were on the tactical situation as his mind ran through strategies at lightning speed. He said, "There's no way we can find the Mayor in time as a group. We need to split up. Gray G, you clear this floor and start working up. Nightshade, you and me work our way down to the parking garage. Comet, start on the roof and meet Gray G in the middle. Cypher, hack into their cameras and find the mayor and find that bomb!" As their leader lifted Static Staff to give the call to action, Tigerlily said, "What do you need me to do boss?" Sergeant turned around and said, "Just stay here. Hold up in the courtroom over there. We'll bring the wounded to you. Heal them, then get them out. Can you handle that." The tiny lass said, "Yes sir! I won't let you down!" Sergeant Static reached out and ruffled her hair affectionately. "That's my girl. Everyone, to the rescue!" They all shouted in unison, "To the rescue!" They flew away. The Sergeant looked over his shoulder and made sure that Tigerlily made it to the courtroom where she'd wait. When they got to the door to the stairs, Nightshade Princess said, "You have to stop treating her like a kid. She's one of us. She's a superhero." Sergeant said, "She's a kid who can heal people. I'm tired of sending kids into battle, Shade." The princess of poisonous plants rolled her eyes, which contrasted with the proud smile. In the courtroom, though, Tigerlily was not smiling. Eric Nasty and fifteen of his Nastymen were standing, their weapons drawn. Eric stood over the bomb, his hands on the panel to enter the password, the last step to arming it. When he saw the white-clad healer, he drew his pistol and pointed at her. "Look what we got here! The mascot!" Tigerlily said, "You'll never defeat the Stalwarts! Just give up!" Eric stood, laughing. "Will I? And how will they defeat me, brat, without their powers?" She shook her head. "What?" Eric pointed to the bomb. "You super dummy's are all the same. I don't just mean that sickening sense of self righteousness. I mean that I figured it out. Every superhero, every one I could get a DNA sample for, you all derive your power from the same source. Would you like to know what it is? Get ready... it's aliens." The girl balled up her fists, "You're crazy." "No, I'm brilliant. I may not fly or shoot lightning or juggle sedans, but I have a power. I've got a mind sharp enough to split atoms. I also have money and I paid a lot for the remains of a very special ship recently brought up from the ocean. Atlantis was real! Aliens are real! The great pulse that turned people into superfreaks came from their technology. In a few minutes, I'm going to demosntrate all that, and unless you're wearing a countermeasure charm, like I am, say goodbye to your abilities and hello to the reign of Nasty!" Eric cackled. His men laughed and raised their blasters. And then one exploded. The room went dead. Tigerlily wasn't by the door anymore. She was standing within arms reach of where the ex-Nastyman had stood, his body now a spray of red chunks and foul smells. Eric said, "What the...?" Tigerlilly's body moved so fast that all you could see was a white blur. Her hands fell on two more. They detonated, the same way that their teammate had. She said, "No." Eric screamed, "Fire!" Tigerlily jumped as numerous bolts of light scorched the floor. She landed on the shoulders of another Nastyman. She twisted his head in a circle. Before he could fall, she leapt to another; his comrades cut him down trying to shoot her, along with the two on either side of him. Eric stopped firing. He dove for the bomb. Tigerlilly did a backflip and landed on ballet point on the top of another henchman's head. He splattered downward, his splattering like it had been dropped from the 50th floor. Tigerlilly's eyes were glass marbles, her mouth a small and straight line. She glided from soldier to soldier, each one either being ended with a quick and efficent blow or turned to vapor. Eric tapped out the password, but nerves and shaking fingers got him a "DENIED" on the screen. He tried it again. Same result. He tried to ignore the screams of his personal guard as they died all around him. "C'mon, c'mon... oh, crap that's the wrong password." He started to type in the right one, but he found he did not have a hand. He stared at the stump, weaping blood, and screamed. He looked up and saw tigerlilly, holding his hand like it was attached to an invisible crossing guard. "You don't get to speak about Atlantis," she said. "They were kind people, before the earthquake. They showed my people the first kindness we'd seen in a thousand worlds. That is, except for one. He was like you." Tigerlilly dropped the hand. Behind her, Eric could see a few corpses, but mostly he saw human sized stains. Somehow, the girl's clothes were still pristine. "He built weapons. We shared our tech at first. But then we saw what your kind might do with with it. We saw the darkness in your hearts, only too late. It sank the greatest city in your short history into the ocean. Your kind and my kind were both lost, save for a very few. We made a promise that day, one you're trying to undo." "Get away from me!" Eric shouted, trying to tie his belt around his arm stump. "For ten thousand years, I've given powers to your people. Manipulating your flesh is so easy. Eric stammered, "You... you what? But I-" "So many use them well. A few, not so much. Either way, it keeps you fighting amongst yourselves. The few of great power in an internal struggle while the rest of the world is content to wait and see what you do. "I will not see you reveal us. I will not see you try to undo ten millenia of guidance and nurturing. You, Eric, are the worst of your kind. While I will do anything it takes to see that your infant race not only remaisn thinking you're the greatest, fiercest, most dangerous creatures in the universe, but that you never advance so far that find out what really holds that title. Lucky for you that it was us, their little cousins that found you. "Now die." The doors burst open. The Sergeant and Nightshade were first. Silver Cypher flew in and said, "I knew it! This room was the only one with the cameras blocked out it had to be here!" The Sargeant yelled, "Where's Tigerlily?" A small voice said, "Here." They all turned and found her hugging her knees on the floor. Nightshade dashed, wrapping her leafy arms around the girl like a mother. "Oh T.L., did they hurt you?" The girl shook her head. "I found them like this. I think the bomb backfired." Sargeant Static said, "We should have found it faster." Cypher said, "It's okay. We all missed it." The Sargeant looked around the room. "Doesn't matter now. Let's get Tigerlilly and ourselves the hell out of here." Nightshade covered the girl's ears. "Language!" Tigerlilly giggled. "It's okay, Shade. I'm a big girl. I can take it."	Black hardened leather, oiled to easy silence, gave a softer creak than the roofbeam the black-furred Suthay-Raht trod along its length. Below, in the Great Hall of High Rock, the 'good' Lord Malthon and his cronies feasted. Kasim-dar knew that Malthon was secretly a Wormking agent. He knew that he had been called on by his old Listener to handle one last Black Sacrament, called out by name by the petitioner. In doing reconnaissance, he had learned of their necromantic leanings. He had also learned they were the one responsible for the disappearance of his friends. Good people. A pair of Dunmeri twins, Aile and Werth, one a follower of Lady Azura, the other a staunch worshiper of the Triumvirate, which had led to very interesting conversations. An Orc from the Fighter's Guild, Gro-bar, originally from the strongholds. An Argonian who had studied under the Telvanni, Haj-In. And lastly, but not least, his erstwhile partner in crime, Rajina-la, ever graceful, the supple agility to his own sinuous frame. She was his first theft, actually, stolen from a Breton plantation during one of his last assignments from the Dark Brotherhood. It had been two weeks since they had all vanished. It had been a mere six since they had all begun working to destroy a cult of necromancers in the town, who had been terrorizing the villages. It had been Haj-In who had performed the Sacrament... on himself. With his dying breaths he had told the Listener just eight words. "Lord Malthon. Worm. Give this only to Kasim-dar." Now, however, it was time to go to work. How Haj-In had known, the Khajiit didn't know. But this was work he had tried to put behind him when they had banded together, five years ago. He'd hidden his skills from them, because he desperately wanted, needed, to leave that life behind him. Time to go to work. Fingers traced a ward against necromantic energy, powered by one of a number of scrolls on his person. Those same fingers then twisted into a mystic position of attack while he leveled the crossbow and fired, spell and bolt both cutting down their targets. Before anyone could do more than stare agape at the dying men, the assassin dropped from the rafters, throwing daggers with long-practiced flicks of wrist and finger. None of their marks breathed once more. And then, as he drew his trademark daggers, one forged of enchanted glass, the other enchanted ebony, he brutally drove both footpaws into Malthon's gut, knocking his entire wooden throne over. Death-magic clawed at him from their protective wards, but failed to grip his essence thanks to his own spell. And now, at last, he was face to face with his friends' abductor. "Lord Malthon! This one wants you to understand the depth of your troubles, so he will do something rarely heard of." He knelt down, muzzle to face with the Breton. "You will tell me what I want to know, or I will rip you to pieces and feed you to Sithis myself. Where are my friends?"
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	Drascar. Every black market, mafia, and crime syndicate on the continent can be traced back to this city, so much so that it's often called the City of Thieves. When the others went missing I knew I had to pay a visit to my old home town. Even just walking down the road through the outskirts of the town you can feel the eyes on you. Well, that may just be me. It's not every day that the famed Master of the Raging Flame, one of the world's greatest heroes, visits a city whose biggest export is crime. I'm sure by now the news of Heavenly Paladin Kranor and Beast Master Srakan going missing has reached this place, and I'm even more sure that the people behind it are in one of the mansions towards the centre of town. Or perhaps they're in a hidden compound bellow one. You can never tell with Drascar. Either way, I know that I can't just barge in alone. I have a reputation to uphold, and when I get the others back I don't want them hearing about how their dear friend burned down a city and murdered the inhabitants in a raging inferno, no matter how crime ridden it is. Something tells me Kranor would scold me about "cold blooded murder" and "we thought we were past this." Srakan would just stare, silently disapproving. I can't take that, their disappointment, so I'm going to do this right. I'll start with the children, the orphans and urchins. I know from experience that they hear much more than people think, and are willing to part with that information for a few copper coins. Throw in a good meal for them and their friends and they'll die for you. Having arrived at a small orphanage, I politely knock on the door. Kranor said it got better results than just blowing it up with a fireball, and it seems he was right, as instead of running away screaming a young woman stuck her head out. "What? We haven't missed any payments." Unusually articulate for a resident of this rotten semblance of a town. "No, ma'am, I'm sorry to bother you. I'm looking for some information, and was hoping that your charges had heard something that may help me." She looked at me warily, undoubtedly suspecting a trap or scam of some kind. "I don't think-" The sight of silver quickly changed her mind, and she opens the door quickly. I pressed the coin into her hands while brushing past her further into the orphanage. Kranor said charity was good, perhaps his god would smile upon me and give me a hint. Or maybe he'd fuck me over again, I don't put much faith in the gods. The orphans, of course, didn't want to talk to me. They were scared, I could tell because they even turned downy copper. They'd seen something, otherwise they'd have taken the coin and spent a few days on the street laying low so I didn't come after them having learned of their lies. Someone powerful had commited this crime, and they were too afraid to speak out against them, even in private. Of course, when I summoned a flame into my hand and threatened to burn them all their tongues loosened considerably. I left a few coins with them on my way out, enough to feed them for a month, so Kranor wouldn't be too angry if he found out. The mansion I got directions to from the orphans was the largest in the city. Of course it was, who other than the Lord of Drascar had the resources to kidnap two of the three members of Zeriol's Chosen? I didn't bother knocking this time. The smoldering ruins of the large double doors were blown into the entrance hall, and the guards standing before them were reduced to ash by my fury. The flames licked around me as I stormed into the mansion. Bodies fell like a fiery rain as the guards further into the house rushed towards me, and I will admit that I lost track of myself for a while, nothing but the endless roaring flame whipping around me. The gibbering Lord directed me towards the basement before being reduced to ash, and there I found myself, my flames extinguished by a sight I had never expected. Kranor, stripped of his armour, covered in wounds weeping blood. Srakan, curled up beside the remains of his great black wolf, a dagger through his chest. Neither drew breath. Kranor... Srakan... I need you! What do I do! What do I do?! I need you to guide me, I can't... I... What do I... No. I don't... They won't know any more. They can't guide me any longer, I won't feel their disapproving stares ever again... This... This is my choice. Here, now, I choose what direction my life takes. I can't follow them any further, so now I must step up and make my own choice. I could feel the flames respond to my will, wrapping around me, supporting me. In the end, only the flames will never leave me. I strode out of the sea of ashes once known as Drascar, City of Thieves. So many more must pay, so many more caused this pain, and the flames still hunger. The merchants who sold armor that could not protect Kranor, the woods whose beasts did not defend Srakan, the King who gave us this mission, the inn that did not hold them when I awoke. All of you... All of you will feed the flames of my wrath, and you shall burn until not even ashes proclaim that you once were.	Black hardened leather, oiled to easy silence, gave a softer creak than the roofbeam the black-furred Suthay-Raht trod along its length. Below, in the Great Hall of High Rock, the 'good' Lord Malthon and his cronies feasted. Kasim-dar knew that Malthon was secretly a Wormking agent. He knew that he had been called on by his old Listener to handle one last Black Sacrament, called out by name by the petitioner. In doing reconnaissance, he had learned of their necromantic leanings. He had also learned they were the one responsible for the disappearance of his friends. Good people. A pair of Dunmeri twins, Aile and Werth, one a follower of Lady Azura, the other a staunch worshiper of the Triumvirate, which had led to very interesting conversations. An Orc from the Fighter's Guild, Gro-bar, originally from the strongholds. An Argonian who had studied under the Telvanni, Haj-In. And lastly, but not least, his erstwhile partner in crime, Rajina-la, ever graceful, the supple agility to his own sinuous frame. She was his first theft, actually, stolen from a Breton plantation during one of his last assignments from the Dark Brotherhood. It had been two weeks since they had all vanished. It had been a mere six since they had all begun working to destroy a cult of necromancers in the town, who had been terrorizing the villages. It had been Haj-In who had performed the Sacrament... on himself. With his dying breaths he had told the Listener just eight words. "Lord Malthon. Worm. Give this only to Kasim-dar." Now, however, it was time to go to work. How Haj-In had known, the Khajiit didn't know. But this was work he had tried to put behind him when they had banded together, five years ago. He'd hidden his skills from them, because he desperately wanted, needed, to leave that life behind him. Time to go to work. Fingers traced a ward against necromantic energy, powered by one of a number of scrolls on his person. Those same fingers then twisted into a mystic position of attack while he leveled the crossbow and fired, spell and bolt both cutting down their targets. Before anyone could do more than stare agape at the dying men, the assassin dropped from the rafters, throwing daggers with long-practiced flicks of wrist and finger. None of their marks breathed once more. And then, as he drew his trademark daggers, one forged of enchanted glass, the other enchanted ebony, he brutally drove both footpaws into Malthon's gut, knocking his entire wooden throne over. Death-magic clawed at him from their protective wards, but failed to grip his essence thanks to his own spell. And now, at last, he was face to face with his friends' abductor. "Lord Malthon! This one wants you to understand the depth of your troubles, so he will do something rarely heard of." He knelt down, muzzle to face with the Breton. "You will tell me what I want to know, or I will rip you to pieces and feed you to Sithis myself. Where are my friends?"
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.	I am a necromancer. My party knows this. Skorndrick Gristle, the Lost, at your service. In fact, the way I've worked myself out, my spells and my fighting capabilities, I'm probably the strongest member of our party. Do any of them suspect this? No. As far as they're concerned, I'm a good person who just.... helps the dead ease into the afterlife. And if that means telling them the dead wish to help, then that's what I've done. They've even got a joke excuse for me and my enchanted shovel- it's for digging "trenches". One time I bullshitted some suspicious librarians that didn't want to loan me a necromancy book with "The dead know the truth. There is meaning behind their existence. We all die, it doesn't have to be a bad thing. They need help, and I'm here for them." Another time I told a guard I was resurrecting a dead man because he'd requested being allowed to help protect the town he'd so loved in life. That was a lie, as well. And my party believed me. Of course they did. Naturally they've had their suspicions, of course. They've even been suspicious of our Oathbreaker Paladin, but he's a paladin so he can't be that suspicious. And to help that, I've always been cautious around them. Always. I've never had a reason to make them question me, more or less. Doing bad things for the right reasons is still doing something with good intentions for the benefit of more than just yourself. I've always told myself they didn't need to see the side of me that was kicked out of the dwarven cities for my actions, that they didn't deserve to experience what those who knew me back at home did. Until now. Until that awful man took them and threatened them and hurt them and hid them away. I wasn't there with them when they need me to be. I was away, teasing bones out of the teeth of the dragon I had raised from the grave with the Oathbreaker. Each time Heskan, my dragon, consumes a living being, he becomes a little more alive, a little less skeletal, flesh and sinew regenerating into place from rotting tendrils of death magic I amplified with the Oathbreaker to bring back. We'd been recovering in the privacy of a forest grove outside of the city when it happened, and I didn't find out until the next day. I always sleep with Heskan- his ribcage has hammocks of burlap for our stuff, and it's free real estate, so why not? Some of our party jokes he's the "Bone Bus", and I'll be the first to admit that's what he's mostly for. But now that man- the general of this shit kingdom's tiny, half-assed army- has my friends. He's locked them up, lied and said they were invaders or demons or spies or whatever nonsense befit each of them in his mind. All so he could power trip over visitors. And I will not permit that. Heskan and I are outside of a three hundred year old graveyard that's housed every dead member of this city since its founding, all closely buried together to save space. That's quite a bit of fodder for me to abuse, and Heskan agrees. It won't take me long, most of the night maybe, but missing a night's worth of sleep in exchange for an undying army is well worth the cost to save my party. They're good people. And they deserve me.	Black hardened leather, oiled to easy silence, gave a softer creak than the roofbeam the black-furred Suthay-Raht trod along its length. Below, in the Great Hall of High Rock, the 'good' Lord Malthon and his cronies feasted. Kasim-dar knew that Malthon was secretly a Wormking agent. He knew that he had been called on by his old Listener to handle one last Black Sacrament, called out by name by the petitioner. In doing reconnaissance, he had learned of their necromantic leanings. He had also learned they were the one responsible for the disappearance of his friends. Good people. A pair of Dunmeri twins, Aile and Werth, one a follower of Lady Azura, the other a staunch worshiper of the Triumvirate, which had led to very interesting conversations. An Orc from the Fighter's Guild, Gro-bar, originally from the strongholds. An Argonian who had studied under the Telvanni, Haj-In. And lastly, but not least, his erstwhile partner in crime, Rajina-la, ever graceful, the supple agility to his own sinuous frame. She was his first theft, actually, stolen from a Breton plantation during one of his last assignments from the Dark Brotherhood. It had been two weeks since they had all vanished. It had been a mere six since they had all begun working to destroy a cult of necromancers in the town, who had been terrorizing the villages. It had been Haj-In who had performed the Sacrament... on himself. With his dying breaths he had told the Listener just eight words. "Lord Malthon. Worm. Give this only to Kasim-dar." Now, however, it was time to go to work. How Haj-In had known, the Khajiit didn't know. But this was work he had tried to put behind him when they had banded together, five years ago. He'd hidden his skills from them, because he desperately wanted, needed, to leave that life behind him. Time to go to work. Fingers traced a ward against necromantic energy, powered by one of a number of scrolls on his person. Those same fingers then twisted into a mystic position of attack while he leveled the crossbow and fired, spell and bolt both cutting down their targets. Before anyone could do more than stare agape at the dying men, the assassin dropped from the rafters, throwing daggers with long-practiced flicks of wrist and finger. None of their marks breathed once more. And then, as he drew his trademark daggers, one forged of enchanted glass, the other enchanted ebony, he brutally drove both footpaws into Malthon's gut, knocking his entire wooden throne over. Death-magic clawed at him from their protective wards, but failed to grip his essence thanks to his own spell. And now, at last, he was face to face with his friends' abductor. "Lord Malthon! This one wants you to understand the depth of your troubles, so he will do something rarely heard of." He knelt down, muzzle to face with the Breton. "You will tell me what I want to know, or I will rip you to pieces and feed you to Sithis myself. Where are my friends?"

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